For two men of their undoubted calibre, the task of breaking into Debbie Goldman’s house was very easy. They went in via the back yard, forced the kitchen window causing little visible damage and climbed quickly in. They used fine, penlight torches to find their way around. Crazy went to the front door, while Miller stayed at the back.
What they intended to do was simple and straightforward.
Crazy lifted the doormat out of the slight recess in which it lay and inserted what looked like a wafer thin, black, square metal plate, then replaced the mat on top. He returned to Miller in the kitchen, who was having a slightly more complicated time. He had to ease up the linoleum flooring by the back door before placing a similar black plate underneath it, about eighteen inches away from the door. He pushed the flooring back into place, flattening it with his shoe.
‘Need somewhere to put this,’ he said. He took a small black box out of the plastic bag they had brought along with them. It was about 6? by 3? by 1? with a small aerial on the side which Miller extended to its full length of six inches. There was an on/off slide switch on it. ‘I don’t think we need to be too cute about hiding this,’ he said. ‘She’ll be in a rush, won’t be hanging about, won’t be looking for suspicious things.’
‘You certain she’ll come back?’
‘As eggs is eggs. She’s a woman. She’ll have to get her totty things. It’s just the way they are. You’ll understand one day when you start shaving.’
‘Doubt it. As long as I can get me knob sucked from time to time, I’m a happy guy.’
‘Right. Here’ll do,’ said Miller. He had walked into the living room. He slid the box behind the video recorder, which was near to the window. ‘Should get a good enough signal from here.’ He pulled another box out of the carrier bag. This one looked like a hand-held transistor radio, which in some respects, it was. He turned a switch. ‘Stand on the mat,’ he told Crazy.
‘What — just step on it?’
‘That’s the idea.’
Crazy went into the hall and stood on the mat. Immediately the box in Miller’s hand came to life. ‘Alarm Code Echo, Alarm Code Echo,’ it repeated through its small speaker.
‘It’s working,’ Miller said. He pressed a re-set button and it shut up. ‘Let’s try the one at the back door.’
Crazy did as bid with the same positive result.
‘Hey, that’s good,’ Crazy said with admiration.
‘It’s just a radio alarm. Cops use them all the time. Easy to get hold of, easy to install. Now let’s get out of here.’
Henry met Burrows in the car park. She turned up in her yellow Mercedes, so it was easy to spot, even in the dark. She parked in a vacant spot next to Henry’s Vectra, paused for a while to collect her thoughts, then got out.
‘What can I do for you?’ Henry asked.
‘I’d like to see Marty.’ Her voice was flat. ‘I didn’t get to see him when I was here before.’
The car park was one which was ‘secured by design’ which meant it had features built into it and around it which tended to make criminals think twice about robbing or stealing cars. One of the things it had was good, bright lighting. When Jack spoke she lifted her face up to Henry and he got a good look at her. He saw the cuts, the bruising and the swelling.
‘Jesus, what happened?’
Her mouth tightened and she winced. Her right eye was purple and puffed-up, her cheek too, her top lip cut. Her eyes fell away. She turned back to her car and reached for the door handle.
‘I thought you wanted to see Marty?’
Her fingers hovered by the handle. ‘I do,’ she said meekly. She kept looking away from Henry as though she was embarrassed.
‘But why?’ Henry asked. ‘Why do want to see the body of someone you claimed not to know initially? Are you just a morbid thrill seeker, or is there a professional interest there, you being an undertaker and all that?’
‘You know why I want to see him.’
‘Tell me.’
Her face flickered round to him again. This time the car park lights caught the tears streaming down her face. ‘Because I love him,’ she sobbed.
Henry was hard faced. ‘So? You’re not a relative and I don’t have to let anyone see him but relatives. Even his mum hasn’t been to see him yet.’
‘She’s too distraught, can’t get out of bed.’
‘Ah well.’ Henry shrugged. ‘Then you’d better give me a good reason why I should let you see him. I could get into trouble for allowing you to.’
‘I said I love him. Isn’t that enough?’
‘No, not in my book, Jack.’ Henry was actually on the verge of cracking and letting her have her way. Her tears and emotion were getting to him, despite his rock-like expression. He could never stay hard for long. He was too nice.
She stood in front of him, a vicious debate going on inside her.
‘Come on, Jack, I haven’t got all night.’
‘Okay.’ She swallowed nervously. ‘Let me see him and I’ll give you Ray Cragg on a plate.’
Fourteen
Crazy returned with a take-away, handing Miller his chips and pie covered in a curry sauce. He had a doner kebab for himself, everything thrown on, and a portion of chips. They were in a pub car park about quarter of a mile away from Debbie’s house with the alarm receiver on the dashboard of Miller’s second car, a rather battered Ford Granada. Crazy pulled off his crash helmet and sat in the car next to Miller. They had decided it might be wise to have two vehicles at their disposal and when Crazy told Miller he owned a 750cc Honda which travelled faster than light, it seemed to be the right thing to use.
Earlier in the afternoon, Miller had taken Crazy to visit one of his contacts in Blackpool, a guy who was a radio technician, once actually having worked for the police, but who now made his money from house alarms, person-to-person radios and other such useful items.
He had provided Miller with the footpad alarm for?100 and had also fitted a radio into Miller’s car for free and one on Crazy’s bike plus an earpiece in his helmet for an extra?150.
Crazy had been impressed. He folded open the paper surrounding his kebab. Miller folded a curry-coated chip into his mouth.
Donaldson, again, observed what was going on without interrupting. Henry stood back while Burrows looked at the body of Marty Cragg on the tray sticking out of the fridge.
‘Marty, oh Marty,’ she said sadly.
His face was a terrible mess, blown apart, skull splintered, brains oozing out, left eye completely missing. She sighed and touched his cheek tenderly. ‘I don’t know why I love you,’ she said. ‘I just do, I just do.’ She looked over her shoulder at Henry. ‘All Ray’s bothered about is his money. He didn’t care about Marty getting hurt, it didn’t bother him at all. I hate him for that. His own flesh and blood — and I hate him for what he did to me.’ Her shoulders shook as a sob made her convulse.
Henry did not reach out and touch her. He wanted to know what the hell she was talking about. What money? What was all this about? He clamped his teeth together, not wanting to say anything, trying to judge how best to take this forward, because he knew that if he said anything out of place, he could jeopardize the possibility of catching Ray Cragg.
‘Yeah,’ he agreed, ‘flesh and blood.’
She ran her fingers down Marty’s face and ice-cold neck, then touched his distorted lips with her fingertips. ‘I loved him kissing me,’ she said.
Henry held back the urge to shove two fingers down his throat. The idea of Marty, dead or alive, kissing anyone repulsed him. Burrows faced him again and Henry only just about managed to get his face back into sympathetic mode. Not that easy a thing to do quickly and he thought that Burrows may actually have seen him ready to hurl.
‘You probably won’t believe this,’ she said, ‘but Marty was good to me. We had a great time, had fantastic plans for the future.’ She could not tear her eyes away from her dead lover and she looked longingly at him again. Then she did something that almost made Henry spew for real. She kissed Marty’s lips, a soft, tender brushing of mouth to mouth. She hovered over his face and said, ‘I can make you beautiful again. I’ll put you back together so that no one will know how bad you’ve been. I’ll make you look like Marty again. Handsome. . gorgeous. .’