Bloodlines Page 2

  "That's what I thought. Cash in hand as well. Bonus."

  "Just make sure you keep him sweet."

  I instinctively felt my scar, which was something I found myself doing of late. Since the stabbing, there had been a strange itch, a kind of ethereal pulse. It made me want to move my hand there as if the scar itself was some kind of oracle to forces unknown.

  Or maybe I was just drunk. I turned away from the pub, figuring the further away I got, the further from my mind it became.

  "I'm gonna walk," I said. "I'll be half an hour, tops."

  "I'll be waiting."

  I hung up and walked down to the river, lingering on Victoria Bridge as the night revellers buzzed past. Sparked up. Took that shit in deep.

  The Connollys. The Badowskis. Bloodlines that ran deep.

  I stared into the murky water as the rain fell. It was dirty, the colour of hell itself.

  I took Bob's Fedora from my jacket pocket, a bit crumpled up but perfect in every way, and placed it on my head.

  Then I turned away and walked into the neon lights of the city.

  TWO

  I was looking forward to surveillance. It had been a long time since I'd just been able to follow someone around and sit in my car. It required work at all hours, and things could get very boring with only the radio for company, but it was a lot better than getting stabbed or blown up or attacked with a machete. Of course, it could be lonely work. And tiring. On cold and rainy nights, the drudgery was enough to send you under, and before long you'd have to leave the post just to see something different.

  But I didn't expect any of that in my pursuit of Aisling Connolly. Well, maybe some of the boring stuff. But from what I'd heard, she was an active girl in many ways. Seamus wanted everything on what she was up to, and I intended to deliver. I didn't expect a walk in the park. It wasn't lost on me that last night, in the pub, she'd looked directly at me after Kian had whispered something in her ear. Gotta say, I wondered what that was about. She probably knew who I was already, of that I have no doubt. The hardest job for me now was keeping out of her sight. She probably wasn't stupid. If she knew I was following her around, would there be any point in this job? I reminded myself that I served my clients, not the subject of the job itself. If Seamus Connolly wanted to pay me a grand a week for watching his daughter, so be it. I knew I'd have to be cautious, though. I had a feeling this girl knew how to play games.

  I left Laura at the office and took the Volvo down to Chorlton. It was a place I knew young Kian hung out, drinking in the bars and no doubt cavorting with the young ladies he had his pick from. The Connollys had a huge house out in the village, hidden away behind a little wood beyond the green, and I'd heard through a few people that Kian was now spending most of his time there and the house was considered pretty much his own. The kid was basically drunk on money and drugs and was practically living a lifestyle of debauchery and infamy. He was barely twenty-five yet had a successful business promoting local bands and DJs and putting on party nights that attracted the coolest heads around. A side business of dealing pills and coke and all manner of uppers kept him in decent clobber and kept the house ticking over nicely. I'd done a bit of research already, not that I'd needed to, and I knew that the drug dealing was sanctioned and supplied by none other than his father and his contacts. In the drugs game, it paid to keep your suppliers sweet. Seamus had made things easy for his son. It was his heavies that had done the hard stuff at the business end, keeping the supply coming in. All Kian had to do was plaster on a fake smile and schmooze the punters into buying his stuff rather than someone else's. He was no fool, though. What he was supplying could be bought from any other dick around the corner or up the road, too. But it was the quality of what he was selling that stood out from the rest. This was no street corner dealing but appointment basis only and you'd better have good money to bring to the table. As the old adage went, you get what you pay for, and with Kian's stuff, what you paid for kept you up all night.

  It was around midday when I pulled into a space down a backstreet from the main crossroads at Wilbraham Road and Barlow Moor Road. Got a few dirty looks from some of the locals as I locked the car up and made my way towards the main stretch. It was clear I didn't belong here. Last night, at Mulligans's, Kian had said he'd meet me in the Tap Room, a local bar that attracted the ultra bohemian types that lived here like flies round shit. If I didn't feel out of place when I stepped over the threshold, I certainly looked it. Caught my reflection in a full-length mirror and cringed at how unkept I looked. I had a week's growth on my face and my three quarter length leather coat hung on me like the skeleton I'd become. I'd thinned out significantly since I was stabbed in the abdomen. I'd told Laura it was just because I couldn't stomach my food like I used to. The truth was my mood had dipped dramatically, which I'd tried to keep from her. It took me a while to come to terms with how I'd come so close to leaving this earth. It changed my perspective on things a little bit. I barely felt like eating, but took in just enough to keep my blood pumping. It was the booze that kept me fired up and kicked my arse into gear. I knew I was slowly killing myself and it was a problem only I could address. There was always time, though, and time, I felt, was on my side.

  Stepped up to the bar and ordered a coffee, black. Took away the froth and got myself a brandy to top it up. Ah, fuck it. I knew it would be just enough to spark my enthusiasm, which I knew was lacking. I knew I had to put my finger on why that was. A grand a week in cash was more than enough to pique my interest, but perhaps it was the client who was paying me that got me twitchy. Suddenly I felt nervous and got to thinking that Seamus could've sent someone else after me too, just to keep me on my toes. I knew he had enough of his boys to do what he liked. I looked around, saw nothing suspicious other than a bloke in a dress and a room half full of trendy types drinking continental beer. Took that as my cue to step outside into the spraying March rain and sparked up. Took that shit in deep.

  There were a handful of people outside, all sitting alone, just like I was. Passers-by must've thought we were a bunch of sad cases, or a group let out of the care centre for the day. I sat and sipped my coffee, looking out over the main stretch and the heart of the place, and took out my phone. I opened the photographs I had stored in there, the bloodlines on the walls, the rifle on the floor, the body in the armchair. The images were calling me daily and I could feel that something didn't add up about Bob's death. Bob Turner, my old friend, former Chief Crime Correspondent at the Evening Chronicle. A man who'd took his own life because he had blood on his hands he could no longer live with.

  The coroner had concluded it was a straightforward suicide pretty quickly, and it probably was. I'd read his last words myself in a note he'd left me in a bottle of Bowmore. The cigar he gave me was still sitting in my pocket. I rolled it in my fingers regularly. Even came close once or twice to smoking it, but I always resisted. Keeping it on me somehow kept Bob close, and his fedora, which I'd taken to wearing now and again, somehow kept me ticking over.

  I closed the photographs, tried to put them out of mind. I knew it was a lost cause. The night George Thornley and I found him will live long in my mind. I could still smell the dried up blood in the summer heat. Could still taste that sickly sweet air at the back of my throat.

  Still felt that something wasn't quite right.

  "You been here long?"

  I looked up and saw Kian looking down at me. He was smirking. Said he'd get us a pint, but before I could object - knowing that if I had one, I'd want half a dozen more - he was deep inside and at the bar. I checked the time on my phone. It was coming up to one o'clock and I told myself I could justify it. Just the one wouldn't do any harm. Before I could pocket it again, it rang.

  "What do you want this time?"

  "Morning to you too."

  "It's the afternoon," I said. "Been a long night?"

  "Something like that."

  "Been at the wine again? Something tells me you've been wallowing."

  "What makes you say that?"

  "The sound of your voice."

  "Well, the only thing I've been wallowing in is a long, hot bath. This girl deserves it."

  "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

  "Got some news," she said. "Thought you might like to be the first to know."

  "Good or bad?"

  "Could be both."

  "Spit it out, Fiona."

  I heard her sigh and pictured her pacing around her house with a towel on her head and nothing else. Kian appeared by my side and placed a pint of lager before me. I stood and got out of earshot, but he'd taken the hint anyway and took a seat as I edged onto the pavement. By now, the rain had stopped and a few more punters had gathered around an enormous plant pot they were using as an ashtray.

  "It's our friend," she said. "Robertson."

  "Please tell me he's choked to death on a jam doughnut."

  "No such luck. But he has been promoted."

  "You're kidding me."

  "Wish I was. He's now a DCI."

  "Fuck off."

  "Told you he was after it."

  "They must be fucking stupid."

  "We already know that, Jim."

  "So I suppose this puts his natural ability to be a total cunt at epic levels."

  "Not if we take the plunge, no. Isabella is ready at any time."

  But I wasn't. I liked him just where I had him. I knew I could keep him on his toes and take him down anytime I liked, but he was useful. Although his disgrace and downfall would be a joy to behold, I could use him to my liking. The power had shifted now that he knew what we had on him, and he didn't even know Fiona had the red button right at her fingertips. Which proved to me just how useless he was at his job.

  "I don't think now'
s a good time," I said. "He's proving useful."

  "I know, but it worries me you'll piss him off so much that it might go pear-shaped from our point of view. All I have to do is release the files and he's fucked."

  "So what's the rush?"

  "No rush, I suppose. It's just that he's pissing everyone off already, and he's only been in the job a day. I'm worried the power will go to his head."

  "Absolute power corrupts..."

  "Absolutely. I just want to see justice done, Jim. Isabella does too, and she's got every right to see the bastard sent down."

  "I know, I know."

  "Will you think about it?"

  "I'll think about it," I said. "I want to see him suffer as well."

  "But you want to prolong it for your sake, no one else's. And that's not fair, Jim."

  I suppose I could see it from her point of view. "You still want to leave the force?"

  "Damn right," she said. "After I've seen to all this. There's no progression for me now."

  "But you'll have exposed Robertson and got a conviction. Won't go unnoticed by top brass."

  "Come on, Jim. They'll probably have me up for a disciplinary."

  "They should give you a medal," I said. "And a promotion."

  "I've more chance of winning the lottery. Anyway, I've made my mind up. As soon as it's done, I'm off. I might even go on holiday to celebrate."

  "You sound like you can't get away quick enough."

  "You know what it's like, Jim. It's just not the career I thought it was."

  "So what will you do instead?"

  "I don't know. Become a trucker or something. Go back to being a bloody travel agent. Not thought about it, to be honest with you."

  "Well, I'm paying you good money to help me out," I said. "That should tide you over for a while."

  "I've been squirrelling it away," she said. "Thought it best because I don't know how long I'll be out of work for when I do finally quit."

  "Well, it's time you earned your crust," I said. "I need some information. Anything you can get for me would be good."

  "What kind of information?"

  "I need whatever you can find on a bunch of people."

  "This relate to a new case or something?"

  "Got it in one. You'll be no stranger to who my latest client is."

  "Sounds intriguing."

  "Seamus Connolly," I said. "The whole Connolly family, actually."

  "Oh, everyone knows about them."

  "They're hardly strangers, are they?"

  "Do you really need me to help you with this one? You're getting sloppy."

  "Your help just gives me a bit more time on my hands. Saves me from getting lost in a digital wasteland. Got better things to do."

  "So what do you want to know?"

  "Anything and everything."

  "And are you gonna tell me what this is about? What does Seamus Connolly actually want?"

  "Officially, he wants me to trail his youngest daughter and report on what she's up to. Unofficially, well, we know the Connollys always have an ulterior motive."

  "So what's your feeling on this?"

  "I don't know. I'm just gonna do what he asks until I find out what's really going on."

  "Seems weird him coming to you. Hasn't he got his boys to help him out?"

  "His three sons? Yeah."

  "I meant his loyal toss bags."

  "Them as well."

  "So what's she done?"

  "Nothing, as far as I can tell. But he wants me to keep an eye on her because of who she's shagging."

  "So, who's the lucky man? Footballer or something? Young rock star?"

  "Much worse," I said. "It's one of the Badowski kids. Lukasz."

  There was a pause as I let this sink in. I heard her catch her breath.

  "Shit."

  "Exactly."

  "But that's like Jeremy Corbyn taking Theresa May up the arse. Unbelievable."

  "Not to mention horrific," I said. "I know. It's a strange one."

  "They're like polar opposites, aren't they?"

  "They have bad blood, going back a few years. You might not remember James Dunne hanging from Stockport viaduct."

  "Before my time, I believe."

  "There's probably a lot more we don't know about. Which is where you come in."

  "Aye aye, Captain."

  "The Connollys and the Badowskis," I said. "I need whatever little nuggets you can find. Stuff that might not necessarily be on file or the PNC, especially where the Connollys are concerned."

  "I've heard they like doing one or two top brass the odd favour."

  "You know more than you think," I said. "And you'd be right. So I need you to keep your ears peeled. Talk to a few coppers, especially some of the older lot. Find out what you can."

  "And the Badowskis?"

  "Same with them. Anything you can dig up, especially on Lukasz."

  "It might take me a while."

  "There's no rush," I said. "Just let me know what you can, when you can."

  "I'm on it," she said. "But I'm regretting calling you now."

  "Why's that?"

  "Well, you've just given me a load of work to do."

  "It's what I'm paying you for, don't forget."

  "Well, it is keeping me in good knickers, I suppose."

  There she goes again. Flirting. There was always that pause when I did a double take and she waited for me to catch my thoughts. It was as if she wanted to stop me in my tracks on purpose. Playing games. Pushing the boundaries (and my buttons). I liked the fact that she was a bit cheeky, though it made me a tad uneasy, especially when she was with me in the flesh. Because, although I kept denying it, I had to admit to myself that I was attracted to her. Which made our mutually platonic relationship difficult. The thing was, I wasn't sure if she was just playing around or she meant it. Either way, I knew it was only a matter of time before any professionalism we had went out of the window.

  Her cackle down the phone brought me back to reality, and I had one eye on Kian, too. I didn't want him getting bored and wandering off.

  "Listen, I'm gonna go."

  "Okay, love."

  "Keep me updated," I said. "Anything you come across, remember?"

  "I'll be in touch as and when."

  It was my cue to hang up. I turned to Kian, who was already halfway through his pint, and sat opposite. Took a long drink and sparked up. Took that shit in deep.

  "A woman?" he said.

  "How did you guess?"

  "They like to chat shit, don't they? So anyway, how did you become a private detective? Police not exciting enough for you?"

  "Something like that," I said. "They booted me out, so I had no choice."

  "So what did you do?"

  "None of your business," I said. "And anyway, we're not here for me."

  "Touchy type, eh?"

  "Not at all," I said, thinking about how much I'd like to punch the little shite. "Just keen to get down to work."

  "So you've summoned me here because...?"

  "I want to know more about your sister. It's not lost on you that your dad wants me on her case. So I need a few things."

  "Go on."

  "We'll start at the beginning. How did you find out she was seeing Lukasz Badowski?"

  He laughed and shook his head. Took a drag on his smoke and looked me in the eye. "She told me. One night after she'd had a few. She'd had a row with my dad and later on, when I found her in the pub, she just came out with it. Told me there and then over a drink. Said they'd been an item for a while."

  "When was this?"

  "About a month ago."

  "And they'd been together a while, like a few months?"

  "She didn't say. Maybe."

  "And how do you feel about that?"

  He looked away, then down at his beer before taking the last of it. "It's her life, I suppose."

  "So you're not too happy about it then?"

  "What makes you say that?"

  "Tone of voice. Come on, Kian. Lukasz Badowski? About your age, isn't he? What are you, twenty-three?"

  "Twenty-five. He's twenty-three, same as Aisling."

  They were just kids, all three of them. No doubt Kian thought he'd seen it all, but I knew, just by sitting here and looking him straight in the eye, that he hadn't. I had years of experience on this kid, was old enough to have fathered him myself, and yet he was cocky. An air of self satisfaction graced his perfect face, and I knew instantly, the moment I first met him, that his smugness reminded me of everything I hated in people. Robertson had the same look about him. And sure, weren't we all cocky at that age? I know I was. And I wish, just like this kid before me, not a care in the world or a weight on his shoulders, that I was twenty-five again.