The Cold Calling

Em and Vic looked at one another.

‘That’s a problem, is it?’ Andy starting to wonder who these people were, how they connected with Inspector Maiden. Like, were he and the girl an item?

‘It’s one hell …’ Bobby tried to sit up, moaned, fell back on the bed. ‘… of a problem.’

‘I told you to stay still,’ Andy snapped. ‘Don’t you dislodge those peas.’

‘We do have a problem with the police,’ he said. ‘Though not all the police.’

‘There are policemen and policemen in this town,’ Em said. ‘Like everywhere, I suppose.’

‘After they’d gone, we didn’t hang around,’ Vic said. ‘We’re practically dragging him back to the car. He’s half out of it, as you can imagine. I know we shouldn’t’ve moved him, sister, but if them guys came back … Which was a possibility. Be quite an earner for them. You know?’

‘Listen, I don’t want to know. The less I know the better. What I do know is you ought to be in hospital, Bobby. You ought never to’ve come out. This is some kind of madness.’

He didn’t reply. He was looking deathly.

‘Look, I’ll make him an eyepatch with Sellotape, but he needs a proper one, Long John Silver job. No pressure’s the thing to remember. Ice packs till then.’ She stood back. ‘Could look worse than it is, but we cannae be sure. There’ll be bad bruises where they hit him with the bar. Could still be internal injuries. He needs constant attention. Any change for the worse, any change at all that isnae for the better, you get on to a bloody doctor pronto, y’hear? Can he bide here a while?’

‘No way,’ Maiden said. ‘Not now.’

‘You be quiet, son,’ Andy said. ‘You make too many of your own decisions. Did I no tell you to think first?’

‘I think he might be right, Mrs Anderson. It sounds ridiculous to say he wouldn’t be safe here …’

‘But that’s what you’re saying, is it, hen?’

‘Maybe. We knew things were difficult, we didn’t realize how difficult.’

‘Those lads,’ Vic said. ‘Not local. They was of an age I’d know them if they was local. Well, you think about it. You don’t just hire complete strangers, half an hour’s notice, to go and beat somebody to death. They was on a retainer. They was just waiting for the word.’

‘If this is Pa, I’ll bloody kill him.’

‘I’d say not. I’d say somebody lost patience with your old man. It’s getting less difficult to find people who’ll do for somebody for a couple of grand. Plus, there’s a lot of very discreet middlemen about, so it don’t get traced back.’

Andy said, as calmly as she could manage, ‘They’re gonny try again, are they not?’

Vic shrugged.

There was an answer to this situation. Andy closed her eyes momentarily and saw a pale red sun against the lids. Oh aye, a very obvious answer here. So obvious, she wanted to resist it.

‘I hear your daddy was at the hospital, Bobby. Is there no chance-?’

‘Don’t even ask.’

‘Like that, eh? You got a problem, then, son.’

Andy walked over to the window. Saw her own grim-faced reflection hologrammed over the lights of Elham. She should’ve been in St Mary’s by now.

‘So what did you have in mind to do about this, Bobby?’

‘Get out of town. Book into a hotel somewhere for a few days. Except my wallet’s in the hospital safe. Cash. Credit cards. Looking like this is going to be another problem. You book into a hotel with a face like this, they do a courtesy check with the local police. I’m a bit buggered, really.’

‘We can sort out the money. Jonathan’ll get that. Bobby, listen, there’s a place you could go. Well out of it. Where nobody’s gonny find you. Where you could have the time to heal, son. You need to heal. Physically, mentally and …’

It was as if, when she’d placed her hands on his head, bringing up High Knoll, she’d made a connection, plugged into a live circuit and it wasn’t going to be broken; the current was strengthening. It was the right thing to do.

‘… and spiritually.’ Andy looked at him, blood all over his Elham Hospital Fun Run T-shirt. ‘There are some places you heal quick. Some places heal parts of you you didnae know were sick.’

‘I’m sure there are,’ he said, ‘but it’s not your problem, Andy. We’re really grateful for what you’ve done. Don’t get involved any further. Not many laughs in this.’

‘Hey!’ Andy walked to the foot of the bed. ‘Don’t you tell me what’s no my problem, Bobby Maiden. They’re gonny kill you, son, you hang around here, and then you’ll die and go back to the nasty grey place, am I right?’

She regretted it at once. His whole body went rigid.

‘I’m sorry, son,’ she said.

She rang Jonathan and told him as much of everything as she could pack into four minutes.

‘What a colourful life you lead, Sister Andy,’ Jonathan said. ‘How long will you need?’

‘Well, I already begged two days. I’ll try and stick to it, but if it takes longer, it takes longer.’

‘Don’t put your pension on the line,’ Jonathan warned, ‘for a bit of mumbo jumbo.’

She made the eyepatch.

She told Bobby Maiden to get some sleep. He said, no way. He lay there staring at the ceiling. He seemed to be glad of the pain.

She thought she understood.

Emma Curtis took her into another room. ‘Where are you taking him?’

‘I’m no sure you need to know that, hen.’

‘Nobody’s going to bloody torture me, Sister. And if he can’t visit me, I want to visit him.’

‘You sure you’re good for each other, hen?’

The dark eyes didn’t move. ‘What’s that got to do with the price of eggs?’

‘OK.’ Andy smiled. ‘Let me have your phone number again. I’ll call you when he can see what he’s doing.’

‘Thanks,’ Emma said. ‘And … thanks.’

At two a.m., an ambulance arrived. ‘Apologies, sister,’ the paramedic said, ‘earliest I could make it.’ Giving Andy the envelope containing Bobby Maiden’s wallet and his keys. ‘Dr Jonathan says good luck. With the, er, mumbo jumbo.’

XVI

Three-fifteen a.m., Andy driving as if she could read Bobby Maiden’s mind. Grim-faced under the fluffed-up red hair, clogging the pedal as though they were breaking bail — all mobiles alert for a ten-year-old powder-blue Golf with a Greenpeace sticker.

Slowing only whenever she spotted a police car. But it wasn’t police, as such, that Maiden was worried about. He was seeing a dark vehicle blocking a country road. Two men in balaclavas. Tooled up. Silencers. No small talk, no prelims. Maiden, then Andy. The Golf driven into a wood with the bodies.

But, then, Maiden was as paranoid as you can get.

They were a good ten miles out of Elham before Andy spoke.

‘Who’s Emma, then?’

‘Mmm. Well …’ He told her about the hit-and-run car which had first brought him to her attention.

‘Aw, you’re no serious …’

‘Plus — in case you missed the references back there — her old man’s Tony Parker.’

Andy shook her head, laughing her comfortable, smoker’s laugh. ‘Jesus God, Bobby. And I thought I was mixing with lowlife the day they called me into a meeting of the hospital trust.’

‘She’s OK. Didn’t you think?’

Andy thought about it. ‘Aye. Genes aren’t everything. And the last person she’ll ever harm is you. But you’ll