Kiss Her Goodbye Page 17

  At least he was honest.

  Joe uncurled his fingers. "What makes you think I want Cooper put away?"

  Tina said, "You live in a very simple world, Ronald."

  The lawyer stared at them both for a minute. "What are you saying?" A slow smile spread across his lips. "Ah, revenge. You want to exact revenge on Cooper, is that it? Christ, help me get him locked up, then. What better form of revenge do you want? Look, if you kill him, Joe, you'll find it damned difficult to prove you weren't responsible for killing your wife."

  "Did I say I wanted to kill him?"

  After a moment, Ronald said, "I assumed that's what you were getting at."

  Joe didn't reply.

  Ronald tapped his fingers on the table. "Why don't you tell me what's on your mind?"

  "I don't think you should be part of it," Joe said.

  "I'm already in this up to my eyeballs."

  "Good reason not to get in any deeper. Another few inches and you'll be in over your head."

  "Look," Ronald said, "you can't do anything without me. I'm your go-between. I can talk to the police. I can talk to Cooper. Whatever you want." His voice lowered. "Don't shut me out, Joe." He stood up and walked towards the window. He looked out.

  Joe glanced at Tina. Her nose looked to have swollen some more. He grinned at her, sensing he might burst into hysterical laughter at any moment. She sucked her teeth, forcing her lips into a pout.

  The lawyer continued to stare out the window.

  Joe ran his hand through his hair. He didn't know what to do about Cooper. Death was too good for him. Joe wanted to make him suffer and he couldn't suffer unless he was alive. Cooper had murdered Ruth. Then he'd tried to frame Joe. Unknown to Joe, by that point Cooper had… Joe felt sick again. He swallowed and breathed out. Cooper had raped Gemma. That's how it was. He'd raped her. And as if that wasn't bad enough, in doing so he was responsible for her subsequent suicide. Indirectly, Cooper had killed her. Indirectly, yeah, but he might as well have shoved a knife into her heart. Might as well have shot her in the head. Might as well have beaten her to death with a baseball bat like he did Ruth.

  Joe wanted Cooper to suffer all right. The question was how best to achieve it.

  If Joe wanted him dead all he had to do was call Park and agree on a fee.

  The outrage of Cooper's betrayal gripped Joe by the balls. A pain struck low in his belly, just as if somebody was squeezing his nuts in their fist. One of the first times he'd slept with Ruth, she'd ran her fingers across his stomach and he'd tensed up like this, muscles knotting. His dick slumped and he hated it and her and himself. He'd cried out and she'd wondered what the fuck was wrong with him.

  Joe felt Tina's hand on his arm. "Don't," she said.

  The warmth of her fingers soaked through his shirt. He let go of the fistful of hair he was trying to rip out of his scalp. Odd sensation, her warm fingers.

  He'd never slept with Tina. She kept offering him her body, or her services. He was paying for it, she said. But he'd always refused. The one occasion they went to bed, they just slept. Well, she slept and Joe listened to her breathing, listened to raindrops kissing the window. He was drunk, but his brain was buzzing. After a while, only the occasional swish of night-time traffic punctuated the damp silence. He thought about Ruth, wondering who she was sleeping with, wondering why he'd grown to hate her, wondering why he didn't want to find out who she was sleeping with, wondering why he didn't give a fuck, wondering why he couldn't fuck even if he wanted, wondering if lying here with Tina counted as infidelity, wondering how Ruth justified her extra-marital sex to herself, wondering if he should leave her now that Gemma had left home, wondering if he'd ever fuck Tina, wondering what it would be like if he really didn't give a fuck.

  The reason he couldn't fuck Tina was because he was married. And he couldn't fuck his wife because she was fucking somebody else and he couldn't get the thought out of his head.

  He couldn't blame everybody else, though. He had to take responsibility for himself. He turned on his side and took his cock in his hand. It was daylight before he got to sleep.

  "Stop it," Tina said.

  Joe let her steer his arm towards the table. She placed her hand on his. Her fingers were warm. He slid his trembling hand out of her grasp.

  His thoughts shifted back to Cooper. Joe considered the tantalizing option Park had dangled before him. If Joe wanted Cooper dead, all he had to do was phone Park and convince him he was good for the money. Ruth's life insurance, the house. More than enough. He'd never get close enough to do it himself. But did he want Cooper dead? Maybe, like Ronald said, prison was a better punishment. It wasn't so personal, though.

  Ronald turned and walked away from the window. "What's on your mind, Joe? What's your great plan?" When Joe said nothing, Ronald continued, "You won't get near Cooper. The police will arrest you on sight."

  Joe pressed the palms of his hands together. "What do you propose?"

  Ronald brushed his fingers over his cheek, as if still feeling the sting of Tina's slap. "We don't have enough evidence to take this to court. We have to get him to confess."

  "That's going to be easy." Joe steepled his fingers.

  "Without using baseball bats."

  "Even easier," Joe said. "Anyway, where am I going to get a baseball bat at this time of night?"

  "I have to speak to the police. I'll speak to Grove."

  "They're not taking me in," Joe said.

  "You might not have a choice."

  Joe thought of Park again, of giving him the go-ahead. How would he do it? Gun, knife, bare hands? Joe shuddered. Park still scared him. Joe recalled how he felt stripping off in front of him at the hotel room this afternoon. "Shit," he said. "What a twat I am." He stood, staring at Ronald. "One thing you can rely on with Cooper, he likes to brag." He looked down at Tina. "How would you feel about wearing a wire?" She looked puzzled. "To trap Cooper," he said.

  "You really think he'll blurt it all out to me?"

  "You don't know unless you give it a shot."

  She closed her eyes. "How's the nose, Tina?" she said, voice lowered. "By the way, I killed Joe's wife, eh?" Her eyes opened and she spoke in her normal voice. "I don't think so."

  "Not at first, maybe. But after a bit of persuasion?"

  "I told you," Ronald said. "No coercion."

  "And I told you," Joe said. "You shouldn't be involved in this."

  "So who do you think should be? I mean, say you've got Cooper in some secluded spot. Soundproofed for the benefit of the neighbors. You beat the shit out of him and he spills the truth about Ruth. Meanwhile, you've got Tina wearing a wire, transmitting all this information. But who's she transmitting it to, huh? Who's listening on the other end? Who's prepared to authorize this sort of thing?"

  Joe started to laugh.

  "What's so funny?"

  Joe carried on laughing, wondering if Monkman's head felt any better.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  The light was beginning to fade. Adam checked the grass for dog crap and sat down beneath a clump of scrawny trees as still as statues in the stagnant air. He took out his phone. Dialed.

  "How's it going?"

  Adam told Dotty what had happened so far.

  Her voice didn't register surprise. "Her dad's best friend?" It was almost as if Adam's words were no more than confirmation of her suspicions. "Family member. Family friend. It's usually someone close." She said, "What's her father planning?"

  "Some kind of payback."

  "How do you feel about that?"

  He wasn't sure how he felt. "I don't want any part of it, obviously."

  "That's it?"

  "I don't follow."

  "What did you expect?"

  "I didn't think about it. The important thing was to get the diary to Joe and I've done that—"

  "There was always going to be hell to pay. Can you sit back and watch it happen? However much this Cooper character deserves it?"

  "It's out of my hand
s."

  "You let Gemma down."

  "Listen, I don't think— "

  "No, don't argue, Adam. You have to be honest about this."

  Adam ripped a few blades of grass out of the soil while he waited for Dotty to continue.

  "She died under your roof. She was your responsibility."

  "It's my fault. Is that what you're telling me?"

  "Do you know what's right, Adam? Do you think Joe might kill him?"

  "He might do something worse."

  "What could be worse?"

  "I don't know. I don't have his imagination." Adam plucked a few more blades of grass.

  Dotty said, "Come on. What could be worse?"

  "I don't like to think about that."

  That's how their conversation might have been. He redialed and this time he didn't hang up before Dotty answered.

  When she came to the phone, his throat tightened. His voice sounded squeaky. He asked how things were back home. She told him that Willy had been rushed to the dental clinic for an emergency extraction. He was okay. One tooth fewer and still couldn't chew properly, but his life wasn't in danger. She said she was handing in her notice. Adam asked if the council had picked up the mound of rubbish bags in the field at the back of Wrighters' Retreat. They hadn't. He asked Dotty if she'd do him a favor and give them a ring. She said she didn't like to hassle people about stuff like that. She said she was leaving, she couldn't stay any longer at Wrighters' Retreat. She was sorry, but she'd made her decision and nothing he could say would make her change her mind. He told her not to worry about the bins, he'd take care of them when he returned. He asked if she'd arranged her flight for the funeral. She told him she was booked on the first flight out in the morning. She'd have to stay in Edinburgh overnight. He asked if there was anything he could do to help. She asked him if he was listening.

  "Any calls for me?" he said.

  She sighed audibly. "A policeman. Wanted to speak to you about Gemma."

  Immediately, he thought of Monkman. He recalled watching him kick Joe's defenseless body. And all of a sudden he was telling her what had happened that night. He told her about Monkman beating up Joe. About how he wanted to join in, yet was revolted by his feelings. How he felt sick with guilt now, knowing Joe had been innocent. About how pathetic he felt that he couldn't help.

  She didn't comment. He waited. Still she said nothing.

  "Dotty?"

  "What do you want to happen between Joe and Cooper?" she asked him.

  "I want to see justice being done."

  "What does that mean?"

  After she hung up, he sat for a while. Then he got up, hailed a passing taxi and gave the driver the name of his hotel.

  He thought about what Dotty had said. He wasn't sure he was doing the right thing. There was something tempting in the idea of running over to Brewer's flat and asking if he could help. Offering to hold that bastard fucker Cooper down while Joe bashed his brains in. The very idea that Cooper could have done these things made his stomach churn. To Gemma. To Ruth. Hell, to Joe. To Tina. The man was no better than a beast. Dotty had said she was resigning. He felt as chilled as if he was suddenly naked. Cooper deserved whatever punishment Joe had in mind for him.

  The taxi dropped Adam off at his hotel. He got his key from the reception desk and walked along the narrow corridor to his room.

  Why was Dotty leaving? Was it something he'd said?

  When he opened the door he thought at first he'd entered the wrong room. A middle-aged man in a smart suit was facing him. "Mr. Wright?" The man raised a hand in greeting, then took a pair of glasses out of his pocket and put them on. The tip of his nose was red, like he had a cold.

  "Who are you?" Adam said. "What are you doing in my room?"

  "Come in," the man said. "I won't bite." He strode over to the table against the far wall and picked up the kettle. He disappeared into the bathroom with it. Adam heard the sound of running water. He considered leaving while he still could, but the stranger had looked harmless enough. A bit mad, perhaps. He reappeared, placed the kettle back on the table and pressed the switch. "Tea?" he said. "Coffee? Hot chocolate?"

  "Are you going to answer my question?" Adam asked him.

  "If you'll answer mine." He indicated the pair of cups he'd set next to the kettle. One of the cups had a teabag in it.

  "Nothing for me, thanks. But why don't you just go right ahead and make yourself at home?"

  The man poured an individual portion of milk over the teabag. Once the kettle switched off, he added water. He stirred the brew while he introduced himself. "Grove," he said. "Detective Sergeant."

  It fitted. Only a policeman would be this rude. "What do you want?"

  "Just a moment or two of your time." He sipped his tea. "You're not busy, are you? I'd like to ask you a few questions."

  "I have a few questions of my own."

  "Be my guest."

  "How did you find me?"

  "I called you. A young lady answered the phone. She told me you were in Edinburgh."

  "Why did you call?"

  "There were some matters I wanted to discuss with reference to the death of Mrs. Ruth Hope. I'm involved in the investigation."

  "How did you find out I was staying here?"

  "I asked the young lady. She told me."

  "How did you get into my room?"

  "I showed my badge to the receptionist. He let me in."

  "I don't like it," Adam said. "I don't like you invading my privacy. I want to make that clear before I answer any of your questions." He blinked. His eyelids were wet with sweat.

  "I appreciate you may not take kindly to the intrusion and I apologize." The detective placed his cup in its saucer. It rattled and the noise set Adam's teeth on edge. "How about it? Will you please accept my apology, Mr. Wright?"

  What could he say? He chose to ignore the question and ask one of his own. "What do you want to know?"

  "I'd like you to tell me where I can find Joe Hope."

  "How would I—"

  "Let's not pretend, Mr. Wright. Where is he?"

  "What do you—"

  "Take a seat, Mr. Wright." The policeman pulled out a chair and Adam slumped into it. "Your voice sounds dry. Are you sure you won't join me in a beverage?"

  "Coffee," Adam said. "Black." Grove ripped open a coffee sachet. Adam hurriedly tried to piece together this latest development. He thought he was out of the picture. He'd left Tina and Brewer and Joe to their own devices. Left them to carve out Cooper's future. And here stood this policeman asking if he knew where Joe was. Well, Adam wasn't going to tell him. Thank God he didn't know what they were planning. No amount of interrogation could reveal what he honestly didn't know. He breathed out, glad that he'd left the lawyer's flat before he became privy to any more details.

  He accepted the coffee the policeman offered him and said, "There's really nothing I can do to help you."

  "Tell me why you're here in Edinburgh."

  "For the funeral of Joe Hope's daughter, Gemma."

  Grove burped. "Pardon me," he said. "Touch of indigestion." He patted his chest. "You're very punctual, Mr. Wright. Are you sure there isn't another reason?"

  THIRTY-SIX

  "You think you can get hold of one?" Ronald was in the hallway, using his landline. The kitchen door was ajar and Joe listened intently, trying to gauge the success of the lawyer's mission from the tone of his voice. Right now, he sounded excited.

  Joe's stomach was still tender from throwing up. Thinking of Cooper was bad enough, but when he thought of Monkman, bile started to rise in his gullet and blood thumped like heavy drumbeats in his temples.

  As Ronald spoke, he paced in a tight circle, got tangled in the phone lead, then changed direction. He said, "As soon as possible. Right."

  "He's agreed," Joe said to Tina. Turned in her seat, she gave Joe a slight nod. He leaned towards her, his side hurting a little as he did so. He touched the back of her hand lightly and spoke into her ear: "We need
to talk." He pulled away from her.

  Her eyebrows bunched. "What's stopping us?"

  Joe glanced through the open doorway into the hall. Ronald was still pacing, phone plugged to his ear. Joe faced Tina and pointed over his shoulder. He leaned towards her again. "Can't risk our friend overhearing."

  "He won't," she said. "Not if we whisper."

  Joe leaned towards her again. She tilted her head to the side. Her hair smelled of smoke. He inched forward until his lips were almost touching her ear. He could smell the faint trace of cheap perfume and feel the warmth of her neck. "I don't want him to suspect anything. If he sees us whispering, he'll know we're keeping something from him."

  Her head bobbed up and down. Then she pulled back and glanced over Joe's shoulder. Her gaze switched to Joe, then her eyes focussed on the spot behind him and she smiled.

  Joe turned.

  Ronald was swaggering into the kitchen, grinning like a schoolboy. "I told him the plan."

  The plan was as follows.

  Tina would get fixed up with a wire (that's why they had phoned Monkman — he was the only one who had access to the equipment). She'd arrange to meet Cooper under the pretext of Joe joining them later. Over the course of the evening, Tina would use all her considerable experience in the art of seduction to persuade Cooper to forget about Joe. She'd let Cooper know that she responded to a man who roughed her up a bit. She'd flatter him. Stroke his ego. Maybe even stroke something else. If events turned out as Ronald imagined, Cooper would admit to Ruth's murder. Joe told the lawyer that Cooper was so full of himself that a confession was a real possibility. And that's where the wire came in. Record his confession and he'd have a hard time explaining himself to the police. He would have incriminated himself and Joe would be free. Everybody would be happy. Justice would be served.

  The plan was Joe's and had he known no better, he might have thought it had some potential. And, certainly, it had to appear so. It was vital that the plan convinced Ronald and Monkman.