‘Psychobabble bullshit.’
‘Harry didn’t agree.’
‘What am I meant to be scared of, exactly?’
‘Who knows? Failure, perhaps? Not measuring up to your father? You’d have to sit down with a therapist to work that one out.’
‘Someone like you? I’d rather put a bullet in my head.’
‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. You’ve undergone a terrible loss, Frank. My advice would be to seek professional help as soon as possible.’
Callum’s tone suggested he had nothing but his ex-business partner’s best interests at heart. Frank swallowed a couple of times and the knuckles in his fists showed against the skin.
‘Have you spoken to the police?’ he said, his voice filled with tension.
‘About what?’
‘Harry.’
Callum shrugged. ‘I haven’t anything to tell them, Frank.’
‘You don’t know that. She might have said something to you that would only make sense to them.’
‘That might help identify a suspect?’ Frank nodded. ‘Based on our conversations, there’s only one person who could possibly have had a motive to kill her.’
‘Who was that?’
‘You,’ Callum said.
And that was when Frank went for him.
The distance between the chairs was about eight feet. Even for a bloke with as much timber on him as Frank, it took no more than a couple of seconds to cross the space. Callum was ready for him. Using his left arm he diverted Frank’s momentum towards the floor. Then he placed him in a chokehold.
Gone was the tranquil countenance of a man who had expelled his demons. Callum’s lips were drawn back from his teeth in a vulpine rictus and the veins in his temples stood out like twine.
‘Now, I’m going to tell you something, Frank,’ he said, ‘and then you’re out of my life for good. Do you understand that?’
Frank struggled. Callum tightened his hold and carried on talking.
‘I only met Harry half a dozen times but it was clear that her life was becoming increasingly meaningless. To her credit, she wanted to do something about that.’
A much less vigorous spasm from Frank.
‘Now, you may not approve of the work we do here, but Harry offered to help raise funds on our behalf. At no time did I try to prejudice her against you. Although, if you want my honest opinion, the best thing she could have done as far as you’re concerned was to run a thousand miles in the opposite direction. You’re poison, Frank. You were to me and you were to her. Everything you touch turns to shit.’
With each sentence, the pressure on Frank’s throat increased. He was struggling to breathe and pawing at Callum’s sinewy forearm. Events had happened so quickly it seemed as though they were taking place on a cinema screen. Unless I intervened, there wouldn’t be a happy ending. At least not for Frank.
‘You’ve made your point, Callum,’ I said. ‘Let him go.’
He showed no sign of having heard me. I looked round for something to use as a weapon, if necessary. The only thing with potential was a fire extinguisher.
‘If I knew who was responsible for Harry’s death, I’d have gone to the police long ago,’ Callum said. ‘But the only things we spoke about were you, her depression, and then her potential involvement in Plan B. Do you understand that?’
Frank was close to losing consciousness. His face had turned an alarming shade of puce, and bubbles of saliva traced his lips. I had the extinguisher raised and was about to bring it down across the back of Callum’s shoulders—
A knock on the door.
‘Everything okay in there?’ Truda asked. The effect was as though a hypnotist had clicked his fingers in her boss’s face.
‘Yeah, we’re fine,’ Callum said, the anger in his eyes disappearing.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely.’
Silence for a few moments, followed by the sound of Truda descending the stairs. Callum released Frank’s head. It hit the floor like a bowling ball. Snot sprayed out of his nose and air rushed into his outraged lungs.
Callum took several deep breaths of his own. I got the impression that throttling Frank had done him a world of good on a level that transcendental meditation didn’t nearly reach. Even if it had left his chakras looking like they’d been run over by a combine harvester.
‘What were you intending to do with that?’ he said to me.
‘I thought you were going to kill him,’ I replied, putting the extinguisher down.
Callum didn’t contest the possibility. Frank was groaning but showing no sign of getting to his feet. Callum stared, as though noticing him for the first time. ‘I’m going out for a walk,’ he said. ‘When I get back I don’t want to see either of you here. If you are, then I’ll call the police immediately.’
After Callum left, I grabbed a handful of tissues and used them to mop up the crud from Frank’s chest and chin. He tried to get up but I told him to stay down. Gradually his breathing returned to something approaching normal.
‘Bastard got . . . lucky . . . is all,’ he said, presumably in an attempt to explain how Callum had managed to take him down so comprehensively.
‘Yeah,’ I said, helping him to his feet. ‘Now, let’s get the fuck out of here in case he comes back and gets lucky all over again.’
TWENTY-NINE
Two minutes from Plan B was probably the only cafe in the area that didn’t have its own artisan baker. When we entered, Frank was still rocky on his feet. It was obvious what the ferrety-looking guy behind the counter thought. ‘Is he pissed?’ he asked. ‘Because if he is, you can both get out of here right now.’
‘He’s not feeling so well.’
‘So take him to a hospital.’
‘All he needs is some coffee,’ I said. ‘Ideally with half a dozen sugars in it.’
‘Just coffee?’
‘And a tea.’
‘There’s a five-quid minimum charge.’
The cafe’s walls were covered in vinyl paper, and its tables protected by sheets of plastic gingham. An Insect-o-cutor mounted behind the counter was mottled with dead flies. I had my doubts about the cover charge.
‘No problem.’
Ferrety reached for a large kettle. The only other customers were a man in his sixties and a teenager in a grey hoodie. They continued to stare at each other over a travel chess set and seemed not to register our arrival.
‘Maybe he’s right about getting you checked out,’ I said to Frank, after easing him into the nearest seat. ‘You don’t look too hot.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Something to eat?’
‘Are you serious?’
‘He probably does a decent bacon sarnie.’
‘Not hungry.’ Frank chased half a dozen grains of sugar around the table with his index finger. Whatever was on his mind, I decided to let it percolate a while. ‘What were you doing in there?’ he said, eventually.
‘You wanted me to pay Callum another visit. I was asking him whether there was anything he might have forgotten to tell me.’
‘Was there?’ I shook my head. ‘Did you believe all that stuff he said about Harry wanting to work with him?’
‘I think so.’
‘Why didn’t she mention it to me?’
‘I don’t know, Frank.’
‘Maybe she’d changed her mind.’