Terri and how you’ve lost them and lost yourself. He says this is The Reaper’s final job and he has to do it in Derby, for your sake, because you need to get back on the old case and catch The Reaper so you can put it to rest and find some peace for yourself. That’s his only reason for doing it again. For you to heal yourself. He says we both owe it to you. We’re responsible.
I don’t know, Brooky. Even when I was telling him it was bullshit, I was thinking about it and persuading myself it was a good idea. Maybe this old bird feels like I do after Leeds. Maybe I’ll be doing her a favour. And I reckon I was right. But that’s not why I agreed to it. It was knowing you the way I do. Knowing you back then, how it got to you.
And the family The Reaper’s going to take out won’t be missed. Sorenson gave me some clippingsabout what the son’s been up to and the dad’s got form. I don’t know who else there is but I can’t lie and say I care. I’ve seen enough of these people to know how they turn out. I only care about Lizzie and you now.
And myself? I have to come clean. It was selfish but I knew if The Reaper came back I’d see you again. I don’t have long and you’re the best friend I’ve got left, Brooky The best friend I’ve ever had. Honest. Anyway I don’t need to tell you my decision. And I don’t need to tell you Sorenson didn’t even pretend to be surprised when I changed my mind. He’s too fucking clever by half.
Now I’m not sure how much you’ve already worked out about what happened in Derby but here it is.
Two days before the killings, he picks me up at my house. He’s driving. I don’t know if the car’s his or hired but I think it’s hired. It’s clean. He drives us to Derby. It takes ages. He drives like a funeral director, which I suppose he is in a way. Fifty-five all the way up the M1.
I’m staying at The International Hotel in Derby, he tells me. On the way he gives me a wig and some specs to wear. Just to make things a bit more challenging for you. I’m to wear them at all times and I can’t take my gloves off, I have to find an excuse for that and the fact that I can’t sign my name.
I worked out that Sorenson wants you to think I’m him if that makes sense. I asked him how my dressing up like a freak is going to grab your attention and he says I’m to register at the hotel as SammyElphick from Harlesden. Well, I knew that would do the trick. Like either of us could forget that night.
When we arrived in Derby, he dropped me at the hotel. He’s not staying there but in some B amp; B up in the Peaks I think-miles away so you don’t trace him. He says to meet him at a pub the night after. The Blue Peter it was called. So I meet him there, only this time he’s driving a white van. Hired locally I think.
He gives me a holdall. Inside there’s a brand new mobile. There are two phone numbers on speed dial-one’s a mobile number, the other’s local. There’s a plastic bag with fifty ecstasy tablets in, a small bag of coke and two grand in cash. There’s also a gun, one of those instant cameras that cough out a picture straight away and a street map with Annie Sewell’s sheltered accommodation marked in red. Her flat number’s on it- 20a.
I’m to meet some thug called Banger in the pub in half an hour. Give him the map, the coke and?100. Show him the rest of the cash and the tabs, which are his, if he kills Annie Sewell the next night between 7pm and 8pm. No earlier. No later. I’ve got to make sure he sees the gun in case he gets any ideas, and give him the camera so he can take a picture of Annie Sewell’s body to prove he’s earned the rest of the cash and drugs.
I’m to watch the guy go in, then ring Sorenson after seven on the mobile number he’s given me, to tell him it’s under way.
When it’s over, I meet Banger back at The BluePeter, check the photograph and hand over the plastic bag. I get a minicab back to the hotel and phone the other number. It’s for the warden at the sheltered accommodation. I report a disturbance anonymously to make sure she’s found at the right time.
The next day, I checked out and got a cab to a place called Long Eaton a few miles away and pick up the train back to London. My idea-so you won’t get me on camera at Derby Station. I take the mobile phone apart and throw the pieces out of the train.
Sorenson says if the timings are right you’ll pick up The Reaper case. Not some bumpkin who doesn’t know his arse from his elbow.
And that’s more or less what happened, except Banger did the job with a couple of friends and one turned out to be young Jason Wallis. When they walked into the pub after the job, they looked really young and they were high as kites. I’m not sure it was just the drugs either.
Of course, none of that would be possible without knowing your duty roster. Fortunately-that’s the wrong word-nothing’s been left to chance. I think Sorenson has a contact that has a contact in Derby nick.
Brook smiled. ‘Brian Burton.’
Sorenson knows who’ll be on duty and get the Sewell case and he knows you’re on call if anything else happens. I don’t know who it is but my money would be on that Burton journo from the pressconference. Remember how well informed he was-slimy little pencil neck. I wouldn’t think he knows who’s pulling his strings but when has that ever bothered those vultures?
That’s about it really except for this kid Banger. I had no idea he was a mate of Jason Wallis and he’d rope him and another kid into the murder and I’m not sure Sorenson knew either. And who says crime doesn’t pay? The little punk murders a stranger and it saves him from a date with The Reaper. Funny thing. Sorenson didn’t seem put out by that. In fact, he seemed pleased even though this Jason character deserves to have his throat cut worse than most. I even wondered if somehow that was all part of the plan but I don’t see how. What the fuck. I’ve wasted enough time thinking about it. You figure it out.
I can only think of Lizzie now. I’m dying to see her. A favour though, Brooky See me under the ground next to her. And tell my ex to go fuck herself. I love you for everything you’ve done for me, no matter what the cost to yourself. Time for a drink. Cheers. Charlie. 29th December.
Brook folded the papers and slipped them inside his coat. Now there was nothing to do but wait. He knew everything Charlie knew. Almost everything.
Brook sat opposite his old boss. The old man’s chest still moved. His breath still whistled faintly through his teeth but the noise was diminishing. There wasn’t long.
Brook sat forward and cupped Rowlands emaciated hands in his. For a split second he fancied he could see something. Something terrible-blood everywhere, covering everything…and deep in the blood a tiny face, eyes closed. He removed his hand then rubbed his eyes and shook his head. He stood up to walk around. ‘I’m going mad,’ he muttered. ‘Again.’
There was a grating sigh. Rowlands’ chest stopped moving. Brook checked his pulse. There wasn’t one. He held a withered hand in his. Charlie was gone.
Brook sat back and closed his eyes. He took a few moments to remember his friend. Then he reached into his own pocket and pulled out the silver necklace he had carried with him for so long. Laura’s necklace. He removed the sapphire ring from Rowlands’ waistcoat pocket and slid it onto the necklace before refastening the clasp and putting it back in his own pocket. ‘Safekeeping, Charlie. I’ll give it back when it’s time. Goodbye, old friend. Give my love to Lizzie.’ Brook made to leave but turned back at the door. ‘And Laura.’
