‘Your wife,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Sit up, Jamie, no one’s going to hurt you. You have a criminal record – I wonder, does she?’
‘Jill? Never been in trouble, hates the idea of it.’
‘Sometimes we don’t truly know people,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Does she know everything about you?’
‘No,’ says Jamie. ‘Of course not. I do bad things.’
‘Hmm,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Perhaps she does bad things and doesn’t tell you about them. Why did you move up to Manchester?’
‘Jill wanted a fresh start,’ says Jamie. He looks over to Bogdan and says, very meekly, ‘Actually, I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea.’
‘Make it yourself,’ snarls Bogdan.
‘We can drop it now, Bogdan,’ says Elizabeth.
Bogdan gives a happy nod. ‘Milk and sugar?’
‘Uhh, just milk,’ says Jamie, and Bogdan heads to the kitchen.
‘So it was her idea to go to Manchester?’ says Elizabeth.
‘Well …’ begins Jamie, his brain making recalculations. ‘Yeah, it was, but because of me.’
‘And did she have any close friendships down here?’ Elizabeth asks. Have they been blinded by Jamie’s past? Have they been hoodwinked by the sweet little nursery-school teacher afraid of trouble? Too many people in this case have secrets. Does Jill Usher have a secret that explains the whole thing?
‘A few,’ says Jamie. ‘Work friends and that.’
‘Did she ever mention a Holly Lewis?’
Jamie shakes his head, like he wants to help but can’t. ‘Honestly, I’ve never heard the name before.’
Bogdan walks back in with a tea for Jamie.
‘Thank you,’ says Jamie, then looks at Elizabeth. ‘Who are you? Who was the woman you were with?’
‘That was Joyce,’ says Elizabeth. ‘We’re investigating the murder of Holly Lewis. And the whole investigation seems to hinge on why she rang your phone number.’
‘You have to believe me,’ says Jamie. ‘It can’t be me, and it can’t be Jill. It’s not possible.’
Elizabeth looks at Bogdan. He shrugs. ‘Perhaps it was a wrong number?’
Not Jamie and not Jill. But surely not a wrong number? Holly Lewis, in a panic, keying in the wrong digits?
Or was she keying in the right digits? Elizabeth almost laughs.
‘I have Holly’s code.’
54
Bill Benson drags open the door of the cage and in steps Lord Townes. The Compound is high-tech in every way other than the cage. This cage and its mechanism were taken from Betteshanger Colliery after it had been decommissioned, and must be seventy years old. It had been in a working museum in Rye before Nick Silver purchased it. Bill and Frank had both told Nick Silver that they trusted it more than any modern lift and, by the time the museum custodians had discovered just how much money might outweigh a pristine example of Britain’s industrial heritage, it had been more expensive than any modern lift too.
‘Morning, Lord Townes,’ says Bill.
‘Morning, Bill,’ says Lord Townes. Bill has always been waiting for the day when Lord Townes says, ‘For goodness’ sake, don’t call me Lord Townes, call me Robert,’ but that day has yet to come. You often found that. Back in the seventies the chairman of the Coal Board had been a ‘Sir’ and would refuse to continue any negotiations until you addressed him as such. Nonsense. Frank would also refuse to answer if you didn’t call him ‘Comrade’. One of the many reasons negotiations went on for so long, Bill supposes. Bill is not a political man and will call you whatever makes you feel comfortable.
‘How’s the weather up there?’ Bill asks.
‘Clement,’ says Lord Townes. ‘Quite clement.’
Bill nods. He has still never found anything Lord Townes likes to talk about. He’s tried football, always his first port of call, but nothing doing. He’s tried boxing and horse racing, because the posh ones often go for that, but nothing again. Tennis hadn’t worked, and golf hadn’t moved the dial. Bill has now tried everything. The cage continues its slow descent.
‘You a snooker man, Lord Townes?’ Bill asks.
‘Snooker? No,’ says Lord Townes. He looks nervous, which makes Bill nervous, but, really, what can go wrong here? Lord Townes just wants to collect something from his safe, none of Bill’s business what. Bill has told Ron of his arrival, left him a message, but nothing back yet. Ron will be interested though, surely?
Yep, Lord Townes is nervous, but there’s all sorts of reasons to be nervous in life. For example, Bill has a prostate exam tomorrow and is nervous about that.
Though he won’t be sweating like Lord Townes is sweating right now.
The cage reaches the bottom of the shaft with the sort of reassuringly terrifying jolt a modern lift system just wouldn’t be able to replicate. Bill yanks open the door and leads Lord Townes out.
At the door to the vault, Bill scans his retina and his thumbprint, and a red light turns green. Lord Townes does the same and a second red light also changes. Bill grabs the metal arm of the door and opens it. This time he lets Lord Townes lead the way.
The vault is a rectangular room, no more than twelve foot by eight, each wall covered floor to ceiling with individual safes, once silver and now a dull grey, each with a keypad set off to the left. Bill and Frank keep the place clean, but it is not a gleaming, sophisticated environment. It is a place of work.
Bill turns his back and lets Lord Townes go about his business. Safe 816, on the left wall. Bill hears a code being entered, a safe door flipping open and some sort of small box being taken out. He risks the quickest of glances – he knows he shouldn’t, but what if this is connected with Holly Lewis? He sees Lord Townes place a small wooden box in his bag. Couldn’t keep much in that.
The door shuts again, with a confident beep.
‘Ready,’ says Lord Townes.
‘Right you are,’ says Bill. Frank is always wondering what people keep in these safes – ‘All sorts in here, Billy, probably bring down governments’ – but Bill never gave it a thought. Too many people thinking too much was the key problem with the modern world. Think about your garden, sure, think about what you’re going to have for tea, think about some things you have some actual power over, but everybody spending all day thinking about things they couldn’t influence, where did that lead? Who knows and who cares what’s in those safes? No one has to know everything. Let people have their secrets.
Bill follows Lord Townes out of the vault and seals it shut once more. The cage is ready and waiting for them, and Bill escorts Lord Townes inside. This job was easier than hacking and hauling coal ten hours a day. Bill has had only two visitors all week. Lord Townes today, and Davey Noakes came on Saturday. He should probably have told Ron about Davey, shouldn’t he? The rest of the time he has been working on his Fantasy Football team and listening to a podcast about Genghis Khan.
The cage starts to rise, with a whine that takes Bill all the way back to the seventies.
Lord Townes looks calmer now. Whatever he needed he has found. He’ll have his secrets, no doubt, and good luck to him. You keep them locked away, my old mate, none of my business.
‘I don’t suppose,’ says Lord Townes, finally relaxing, ‘I don’t suppose you watched the darts last night?’
Finally.
55
Joyce had got bored after breakfast, and decided to pop round to see Ibrahim. She’s very glad she did. There’s all sorts going on.
Kendrick is there. He has just been explaining how bombs work. He’d looked it up after Holly’s death, and is now something of an expert. He is also, and this is a first, wearing a dab of Ibrahim’s cologne.