'Affray. A demo on the university campus. Some arse-hole American right-wing Christian anti-abortionist coming to speak at the Student Union. I'm just sorry I didn't get in a few good punches while I had the chance. He's probably in some think-tank now, advising Bush on social policy.'
'And you're what?'
'We've just been through all that.'
'As much as five grams of heroin, more than enough for personal use.'
Summers shook his head, more emphatically this time. 'Not mine.'
'You saying it was Katherine's? Is that what you're telling me?' Elder's voice reverberated in the confines of the room. 'You're saying she's on heroin now?'
'Of course she's not.'
'Because if she is, I'll know who turned her on.'
'Relax, she's not. She won't go near the stuff.'
'Then how did it get into her bag?'
'I don't know. We were at a party the night before.'
'And this was what? Somebody's idea of a joke? A party bag? Smarties and a piece of cake, three balloons and a stash of H?'
'I don't know. Maybe it was a mistake.'
'A mistake?'
'All right, all right. More likely, someone trying to set me up.'
'And why would they do that?'
'Look,' Summers said. His roll-up had gone out and he lit it again. 'Believe this or not, it's up to you. Eighteen months or so ago, I was stopped in the street. Stop and search, right? Coming down through Hockley. Late at night. Happens all the time. Well, you know. You should. Two blokes in plain clothes, Drug Squad or so they said. Of course, they didn't find anything, there wasn't anything to find.' A few stray ends of tobacco flaring up from his cigarette. 'Maybe I was a little mouthy, I don't know. Whatever reason, it put a hair up their arse. Been on my case ever since. Oh, not all the time, every day. Just once in a while, when they've got nothing better to do. Pull me over, pat me down. Reason to believe… you know the drill.'
'That's why you take precautions.'
'That's why I'm clean.'
'The reason you make sure you're not caught carrying your own stuff.'
'There is no stuff.'
'No?'
'No.'
'This place stinks like a cafe on some backstreet in Amsterdam.'
Summers threw back his head and laughed. 'I'll have to take your word on that.'
Elder reached forward quickly and took hold of Summers's arm between elbow and wrist. 'I don't give a damn what you do, how much skank and scag and shit you shift. But you get my daughter involved once more, any way at all, and I'll see you pay. That understood?'
'Let me fucking go,' Summers hissed.
Elder increased the force of his grip and then pulled his hand away.
'I mean it. If Katherine ever gets into trouble again because of you, I'll be back. And you'll regret you ever saw the light of day.'
An hour later, he was on the motorway, heading south.
32
Karen woke before the alarm and lay there listening to the wind rattle the windows and the occasional vehicle going past on the wet road outside; once, twice, she turned over, pulling the covers higher, trying for another ten minutes' sleep, but it wasn't to be. Sooner or later she would have to brave the first cold journey to the bathroom, the shower.
'What's the matter with you, child?' her father had said when he'd visited. 'All this promotion, chief inspector now, and you're still content to live like this.'
Child! She wondered if she would ever reach an age when he ceased, automatically, to call her that? Only when and if, she supposed, she had a child of her own. But there was some truth in what he said, she could afford to move, a bigger flat, bigger mortgage, but where would she move to? And why?
She was happy here. The damned cold aside. What she should do, she told herself for the thousandth time, was pay to have those old windows, which had been there since the days of Methuselah, taken out and new, double-glazed ones put in. Sort out the damp. Get the central heating overhauled, radiators with individual thermostats attached. Radiators, for God's sake, that worked.
In the bathroom she splashed cold water into her face, shivered, and squeezed toothpaste on to her brush.
One reason she didn't do these things, she knew, was the inevitable hassle and disruption. Finding a building firm that wasn't going to mess her around or, worse, rip her off, was the first thing; workmen who would actually turn up to time and do the job until it was finished, instead of the usual two days here, two days there, now you see them, now you don't; the place left looking like a tip while they juggle jobs all over half of London. Someone you could trust.
Karen rinsed her mouth, spat, wiped her face on the towel and sat down on the closed toilet lid.
Someone you could trust.
Someone who would have access to your home, your things; who was adept at climbing in and out, gaining entry, scaling walls and scaffolding.
She was thinking of Steven Kennet, broad-faced, smiling.
Now you know why I lied.
No, she thought, standing up and switching on the shower. Not yet they didn't.
As the water ran over her, bouncing off her shoulders and the back of her neck, she ran her mind back over what she had learned about the possible break-in to Maddy Birch's flat. Nothing taken, barely disturbed, just a sense that someone had been there.
Karen reached for the shower gel.
Yesterday there had been- a message saying that Vanessa Taylor had called, but she'd been too busy to ring back. She would try this morning before the day took hold. A short while later she was dry and partly dressed and spooning coffee grounds into the pot. Not so many minutes past six o'clock.
Elder had contacted Karen from Nottingham, explaining the reason for his absence in as little detail as possible, the bare bones. Back inside the building now, he opted for the stairs instead of the lift and was puffing slightly by the time he reached the fourth floor.
'How is she, Frank?' Karen asked immediately. 'Your daughter?'
Elder hunched his shoulders. 'Good as can be expected.'
He looked tired, she thought; heavy round the eyes.
'You talked to Kennet again?' Elder asked.
Karen nodded. 'We pushed him back and forth about Maddy; this most recent woman, Jennifer. Nothing. Nothing we could use. Oh, sometimes you got the feeling he was close to showing us a little, giving something away, but then he'd clam up. As if he was teasing us almost. Enjoying it.' She shook her head. 'By the time we finally kicked him loose I was with Mike, wanting to smack him in the face.'
