‘You said it yourself, Superintendent. He’s a guy off TV. Thought the rules didn’t apply to him. He was bound to go under the wheels one day.’
Parrs smiled darkly. ‘In spite of what you may think, I have no time for Oliver Cartwright. He speaks for, and to, human waste. I’m happy he’s out of my hair for good. I hope they lock him up with nothing but his sturdiest leather belt for company. But I assume you know who he’s connected to? The white knight of the alt-right, they call him. For your sake I hope he doesn’t reach the same conclusion I have. Because if he does, he might take that sturdy leather belt from round his neck and put it to a different use. Sell it to some lifer for the mobile phone up his arse, make a few calls while holding his nose. No, I’m prepared to turn a blind eye on this one, let you kids work it out between yourselves. What I really called you here to ask is why your thorough and wide-ranging investigation into the Oxford Road dustbin fires necessitates the MOD’s involvement?’
‘It’s related to the unidentified man from the Palace, sir.’
‘And how’s Smiley Face related to some dustbin fires?’
‘I just filed my report. It seems he was the one setting them.’ Parrs didn’t move and I went on. ‘I have video evidence, sir.’
His jaw tightened. ‘No doubt.’
‘The man was burning objects in the dustbins, including, in at least one instance, a large sum of money. The surrounding objects led us back to the Midland Hotel, where we found the man’s personal effects. They led Detective Inspector Sutcliffe and me to a woman who used to be in a relationship with a Mr Ross Browne. We believe Browne’s the dead man found in the Palace. He’s ex-military. Rotated out with post-traumatic stress disorder.’
Parrs sat back. ‘Good work,’ he said. ‘I mean it, good work. You’ll be pleased to hear I had Stromer on the phone earlier as well. Retracted some of her more vitriolic remarks on your character. You were right about that body-dump in the canal being linked to the smiling man, too. It’s almost as though you’ve got a sixth sense on this one …’
His red eyes burrowed into mine.
‘… She still thinks you’re a car crash, don’t get me wrong. But in this instance you’ve rolled the vehicle and landed back on your wheels. Maybe they’re the same wheels Ollie Cartwright went under. So for the moment you’re three for three. I shouldn’t be wasting your time, should I? In fact, let’s sever ties completely, eh?’
‘Sir, I need to bring Detective Inspector Sutcliffe in on the owners of the Palace. Events are unfolding that—’
‘I think not, Detective Constable. I’d rather not waste two bodies. Sutty’s talents are better deployed elsewhere …’ He saw the look pass across my face. ‘Something to say about that, Detective Constable?’
‘No, sir.’
‘If you’ve got concerns about a serving officer, now’s your chance to air them.’
‘The sound of my own voice doesn’t interest me so much.’
‘Could have fucking fooled me.’
‘Handling the owners alone is too big a job, sir.’
‘Maybe so, but you just do your own thing. Really get stuck in there. Tell you what, I’ll even make you a bargain. You’ve got no time for Sutty, so show me some real detective work. Tell me who this smiling man is, a name, and I’ll find Sutty a new partner …’
Parrs was always making these double-or-nothing bargains.
‘… And if the gangs haven’t got the message about the price on your head, and if Cartwright’s friends have got the message about you planting drugs in his suitcase, and if these smiling man developments take you to unexpected places …’ He smiled darkly. ‘Well, you’ll be on your own, won’t you? That’s how you like it best, after all.’
4
I left my meeting with Parrs trying to think of new angles of enquiry for the Palace. My unanswered questions were mainly about Natasha Reeve and Freddie Coyle. Reeve had been receiving notes about her husband having an affair with Geoff Short. Someone had wanted to hurt them, and they had two people in common that I knew of.
Aneesa Khan and Anthony Blick.
I called Aneesa.
‘Detective Constable Waits, I can’t say I’m thrilled to hear from you.’
‘If your clients had been honest with me at the start of all this I wouldn’t have had to shake the truth out of them.’
‘But we keep returning to the same question. What does an affair have to do with a dead man in the Palace? Have you had any progress on that front at all?’
‘One fact in isolation tells us nothing. That’s why we need them all. Speaking of which, I still need to talk to your boss.’
‘He’s due back from Thailand next week—’
‘That’s too late. This case is changing every day and now it’s putting other people at risk.’
‘Fine,’ she said after a moment’s silence. ‘But it’s the middle of the night there now, and I want to be there when you speak to him.’ I agreed to meet her at the firm’s office the following day where we’d set up a conference call with Blick. I wanted to ask her about the affair that had been going on under her nose as well. Earlier that day, at a loose end as to who the blood in the Midland could belong to, I’d found Blick’s Facebook profile. I was almost disappointed to see he was still living it up. Topless, surrounded by another group of young Thai women.
5
I walked to the Waterstones on Deansgate looking for a copy of The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám. After being directed to the poetry section, I found several editions, some with different publishers and translators, even different languages. I bought the one that looked most approachable and left, by now late to meet Ricky, Sian’s fiancé. When I got to the Rising Sun he was hunched over a pint, sitting at a small table facing the door.
His glass was half-empty.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ I said, approaching the table.
‘Don’t worry about it. Get us another of these?’
‘Sure.’ I went to the bar and looked back at him. He’d avoided my eyes and I thought he looked drunk. I realized how I might look to him. A stubbled, perma-scowled detective with a bad history, who was suddenly hanging around the woman he loved. I realized I might look like a bully. His calling me and coming here had obviously taken some courage and I felt faintly ashamed for provoking it. I paid, put our drinks down on the table and took a seat opposite him. He swallowed the remainder of his beer and reached for the fresh one.
‘Listen, Ricky. I’m glad you called.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. Look, I don’t know what you think you walked in on the other day, Sian holding my hand, but it wasn’t anything romantic.’ He made eye contact for the first time. ‘The truth is that some guy had been in the bar earlier that day, talking about me. He told Sian something that contradicted what I’d told her.’
He frowned. ‘I don’t follow …’
I went all-in. ‘I lied to Sian when we were together. If you want to ask her about it, that’s your business. I don’t know how much you know about me …’ His eyes flicked up again. A quick google would have revealed articles about my suspension. Drugs-related corruption charges that had mysteriously vanished. ‘Anyway, Sian was upset with me. When you walked in she’d grabbed my hand, angrily, to make a point. That’s all there is to it.’ He still didn’t say anything and I found myself filling the silence. ‘I hadn’t seen her in over a year until the other night, and the first thing she told me was that she was seeing someone. That she was happy. I’d hate to think I’d affected that in any way.’
Ricky was nodding, still not meeting my eyes. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Yeah, thanks.’
‘It looks like you’ve got something else to say.’
‘Look, I appreciate all that. I believe you. You didn’t have to say it and you did.’ He shrugged. ‘She told me about it anyway. You lied to her about having a sister or something. Weird.’ He took another big drink and reached inside his pocket. He pulled out an envelope and placed it on the table between us. ‘I wanted to talk about this, though.’
My name was scrawled across the envelope.