‘No comment,’ Talbot grunted.
Cath considered Talbot for a moment and then asked matter of factly, ‘When did you get promoted?’
‘What the hell does it matter to you?’
‘Just curious.’
‘Yeah, curiosity’s part of your job, isn’t it?’ Talbot rasped.
‘A Detective Inspector.’ she said. ‘You’ve done well.’
‘Fuck off, Reed. I told you, you’re not supposed to be down here. Now move it, before I have you arrested for obstruction.’
‘As charming as ever, nice to see some things never change.’
‘I’m only going to tell you once more. Piss off.’
‘When can we expect an official statement?’ Cath wanted to know.
‘You just had it.’ Talbot responded as he turned his back on her and walked back up the platform.
Cath watched him for a second then she and Cross ducked back through the
archway which led to the escalators.
‘What the hell was that about?’ Cross asked as they rode the moving staircase.
Cath exhaled deeply.
‘Did you get plenty of pictures?’ she said, sharply.
‘I asked-‘
‘Forget it, Phil.’ she said, looking back down towards the platform area.
Talbot was standing in the middle of the raised area, arms folded across his chest, an expression of anger on his face.
‘Do you know her?’ Rafferty asked him. Talbot nodded slowly, watching as the body was lifted. ‘You could say that.’ he murmured.
Six
The air inside the pub was thick with smoke and James Talbot inhaled deeply as he headed towards the table in the corner.
What he wouldn’t give for a cigarette!
He tried to push the thought from his mind as he weaved carefully around other drinkers, anxious not to spill any of the liquor he carried.
The pub was in Eversholt Street, just across the road from Euston, and it was busy. The sound of a dozen different conversations mingled with the noise of a jukebox which seemed to Talbot to have been turned up so high that it necessitated everyone in the pub to raise their voice to be heard.
Two young women cast him cursory glances as he passed, but Talbot seemed more concerned with reaching his designated table with full glasses than he did with their fleeting attention.
One of them, a tall woman with short blonde hair and cheek bones that looked as if they’d been shaped with a sander, smiled at him, and the DI managed a barely perceptible smile in return, glancing back to run appraising eyes over the woman’s shapely legs as he reached the table.
He set down the two glasses, sipping his own Jameson’s, feeling the amber fluid soothingly burn its way to his stomach.
Rafferty nodded gratefully and took a mouthful of his shandy.
‘I can’t stay too long, Jim,’ he said, almost apologetically.
‘One drink isn’t going to hurt, is it?’ Talbot muttered. ‘What’s your rush?’
‘I want to see Kelly before my wife puts her to bed.’
‘How is your kid?’
‘Beautiful,’ the DS said, proudly.
‘She must get her looks from her mother, then,’ Talbot mused, glancing at his companion.
‘It was her first day at school today,’ Rafferty began. ‘I wanted to-‘
‘Who was on duty up top this afternoon?’ Talbot interrupted, apparently tiring of Rafferty’s conversation.
‘What do you mean?’ the DS asked.
‘I want to know how those fucking press arseholes managed to get down onto the platform.’
Rafferty contemplated his superior for a moment then cleared his throat.
‘Look, Jim, you can tell me to mind my own business, but who the hell was that reporter? You don’t usually react to press like that.’
Talbot took a long swallow of his whiskey. ‘Fuck them, they’re all vultures anyway,’ he snarled.
‘You said you knew her.’
The DI exhaled deeply and sat back in his seat. ‘She did a story on me about two years ago,’ he said, looking down into his glass. ‘It was all over the paper she works for, I forget which one. Not that I really give a shit.’ He looked at the other man. ‘You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?’
Rafferty nodded slowly. ‘Paul Keane.’
‘Yeah, Paul fucking Keane.’ Talbot downed what was left in his glass.
‘Was it true? About you beating him up during questioning?’
‘Her fucking allegations got me suspended for two weeks, didn’t they? Her and her “sources”. Maybe I did rough him up a bit, but I’ll tell you something, I wasn’t the only copper who did.’
‘He did some kids, didn’t he?’
‘Three of them. The fucking nonce. He raped two five-year-old girls and sodomised a three-year-old boy. Whatever he got, the bastard had it coming.’
Talbot pushed away his empty glass. ‘Three years old, can you imagine that?
Jesus.’ He sucked in an angry breath. ‘But that bitch cried “police brutality”
and splashed it all over the front of her fucking rag and there was an investigation.’
‘No charges were ever made against you though,’ Rafferty offered.
“That’s not the point,’ Talbot hissed. ‘She crucified me. She could have ruined my career, and do you know who her source was? Keane’s solicitor. He was more bent than his client. Keane nearly got off because of what she wrote.
He could have been walking the streets now because of her. Newspapers.
Wrapping up fish and chips or wiping your arse, that’s all they’re any good for. All of them.’
He looked down at Rafferty’s empty glass. ‘Another?’ he asked.
‘I’ve got to get off, Jim,’ the DS said, getting to his feet.
‘When are you expecting the autopsy results on Hyde?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘And you still reckon it was suicide?’
Talbot nodded.
‘I don’t know how anyone can do that’ Rafferty said. ‘Kill themselves. I mean, they reckon it’s a coward’s way out, but I reckon you need a lot of guts to top yourself. How could things ever get so bad you’d want to end your own life?’
Talbot shrugged. ‘It could happen to any of us,’ he said, quietly.
‘Not me,’ Rafferty said, heading for the door. ‘I’ve got too much to live for.’ He chuckled. ‘See you tomorrow.’
And he was gone.
Talbot waited a moment then returned to the bar and ordered another Jameson’s.
The woman with the finely chiselled cheekbones was still there, only now she was talking animatedly with a man slightly younger than Talbot. She didn’t even see him this time as he passed her. As he sat back down he could hear her laughter, even over the jukebox.
Talbot glanced at his watch.
It was too early to go home.
Besides, there was nothing there for him anyway.
He sipped at his drink.
‘Too much to live for.’ he murmured, remembering Rafferty’s words. The DI raised one eyebrow. ‘You’re lucky.’
He swallowed some more whiskey, the smell mingling with the stale odour of cigarette smoke.
