Saturday's Child

And the job progressed from there. I got good at tracking down ex-offenders, maybe because I was one. This guy, Don Plummer, he was a local landlord. Had some houses in Hulme and Moss Side, a couple more in Longsight. And sometimes, he had problem tenants. I did him a legit favour every now and then by handing over eviction notices. Paulo didn't mind. It was legal, and it kept me working.

These things snowball. Next thing I know, I'm calling myself a PI and getting all kinds of shit for it. Donkey on my back for one.

I look up the street, see my lift coming over the hill. I nod to the driver as the truck pulls into the carpark. A skinny guy with a belly that looks like he's smuggling a bowling ball under his shirt gets out and looks at my car with practised disgust.

'Now that's a shame,' he says. 'That's a real shame.'

'Yeah, it's all I can do to keep the tears in,' I say.

He looks at me. When he realises I'm not serious, he sets about hooking the Micra to the truck. I get in and it's a short drive to Benton. Once we're at the garage, the skinny guy joins his colleagues and they take turns in surveying the damage. A chorus of tuts and sighs, the usual mechanic beatbox karaoke.

'I know it's bad,' I say. 'But you've got a day to replace the tyres. How's about that?'

'What about the paintwork?' says the skinny guy.

'I couldn't give a fuck. You just sort me out with some tyres.' I give him my mobile number and tell him to give me a call when the car's ready to go.

'We got other jobs on, mate. We can't just drop every- thing.'

'I'll make it worth your while,' I say as I walk out the door.

I light another Embassy as I head down the main road, away from the Metro station. Once I've got the cigarette on the go, I fish around for my mobile and call Donkey. Best to get this out of the way. It's the last thing I want to do, but I might as well do something for Paulo.

'Detective Sergeant Ian Donkin,' he says. His phone voice is official. For a moment I think I'm talking to a real copper instead of a fuck-up with a badge.

'It's Cal Innes,' I say.

'Innes, where the fuck are you, son?'

'You know where I am, Detective.'

'Nah, I mean it. Where the fuck are you? You any idea what kind of trouble you're in?'

'I thought you were keeping an eye on me.'

'Don't play funny buggers, Innes. I find you, you're in custody. And your poof mate won't be able to suck your way out of it, either.'

Poof mate. I'm sure Paulo'd get a kick out of that. And he'd aim it for Donkey's teeth, most likely. 'What's the deal with the tail, Donkey?'

'What tail?'

'The lad in the black leather jacket. The lad that smelled like the inside of a black maria.’

‘Where are you?’

‘You listening to me?'

'Where are you? I'll get someone to come and pick you up.’

‘Jesus, Donkey, you know where I am.’

‘If I knew, I wouldn't be asking.'

Okay, now I need to think about this. 'You know I'm in Newcastle, Detective. You sent a lad up here to follow me around.'

'You think I have them kind of resources, Innes?'

I can't say anything. If it's not Donkey following me around, then it's someone else and I don't want to think that through. 'Listen, I want you to stop going round the club.'

'You don't make the rules, Innes.'

'This shit between you and me, it's got nowt to do with Paulo.'

'Now that's sweet, but I don't care. You get your arse back to Manchester and turn yourself in, and maybe we'll talk about it. Until that time, I'll go wherever the fuck I want and cause trouble for whoever the fuck I want.'

'You're not bothering to investigate this, are you?' Donkey coughs into the phone. 'I'm investigating. Trouble is, my prime suspect did a fuckin' bunk. Now what does that say to you about their innocence, eh?'

'I didn't do a thing to Dennis Lang. If you'd bothered to ask questions — '

'Don't tell me how to do my job, Innes. I don't come to your work and slap Mo's cock out of your mouth, do I?'

'Fuck's that supposed to mean?'

'It means, you don't get back to Manchester quick-smart, I'll have a word with the police up in Newcastle and tell them what you're up to. And in the meantime, I'll make sure I do everything in my power to have your mate's club shut down.'

'You don't know a fuckin' thing.'

'Never stopped me before,' he says.

Don't I know it. 'I'll be back when I'm back, Detective.'

'I'll look forward to it.'

'In the meantime, you might want to get off your arse and ask some questions at The Denton. In fact, you might want to start off with Mrs Lang.'

Donkey starts to say something, but I cut him off. I realise I've been gritting my teeth.

As I turn the corner, the reason for me coming to Benton comes into view.

Alison Tiernan lives in that block. Enough running around. It's time I found out what the fuck's going on.

THIRTY-SIX

I look around for Stokes' Escort, but it's nowhere in sight. Which means I'm okay for the time being. I don't know how long that's going to be the case, though.

I walk round to the front of the building just as a fat guy wearing an anorak comes out of the block. I make a show of looking for my keys, and give him a smile when he holds the door open for me. He doesn't return it.

When I get into the hallway, my mobile starts ringing. It's George and he sounds like someone slapped him.

'Where the fuck were you?' he says.

'Sorry?'

'Last night, you were supposed to meet me. You owe me money, Mr Innes.'

'I owe you fuck all, pal. In fact, you owe me for a couple of tyres.'

'What?'

I click him off. The mobile starts ringing again almost immediately.

'Listen, George, I don't owe you a fuckin' thing. Sue me.’

‘Mr Innes?' It's not George. A female voice. 'Who is this?'

'Urn, it's Pauline. Remember?'

Shit. 'Yeah, Pauline. Sorry about that. What can I do for you?'

'That bloke you were after, he's in the casino right now.'

'You sure?'

'He just threw a strop with one of the dealers, grey in his hair. Yeah, he's the guy. You want to come over and take a look?'

'I can't right now, Pauline. Listen to me, try to keep him there if you can. Tell him he can have free drinks or some- thing and I'll pay you later, okay?'

I can't do that, Mr Innes.'

'Well, just try to stall him.'

'How?'

'You're a bright girl. You'll think of something.’

‘Don't patronise me. You sound like — ’

‘Bye, Pauline.'

I hang up on her. If she's got any sense, she'll leave Stokes alone. But I'm counting on her not knowing what kind of arsehole the guy is and playing it my way. It might buy me a little more time with Alison.

I take the concrete steps two at a time, and I realise that this block has a ground-floor flat and a first-floor maisonette. I walk towards the end of the landing, look out over the balcony and check out the carpark. Then round again to face the door.

This has to be it. It's the only one that could correspond to the window I was watching last night. I take a deep breath, adjust my jacket and knock on the door.

At first, I'm not sure if there's anyone in. I knock again, harder this time. I hear a voice from somewhere behind the door. For a brief second, I think it's Stokes and my gut tightens.