The Ladykiller

  Kelly looked at the lighter for a long moment. Mandy had given it to him for his forty-second birthday. Every time he thought of Mandy he felt panic rise in his breast. If she died . . . Oh God in heaven! If she died he had nothing. Nothing in the world.

  For the first time, his thirst for money had become a secondary thing. He realised he would cheerfully give up everything he possessed to have his daughter back as she had been the last time he had seen her.

  Happy and smiling and alive. Bursting with youth and vitality . . .

  He heard a discreet cough and snapped his eyes from the lighter in his hands to the assembled men.

  ‘I suppose you all know what’s happened?’

  At his words they started to murmur condolences. Kelly held up his hand for silence.

  ‘I want this bastard caught, and I want him caught as fast as possible. I would not wish what has happened to me and mine on my worst enemy.’ He paused while he pulled himself together. ‘As you are all aware, the Chief Constable is a very dear and treasured friend of mine. He has assured me on the phone today that any information I want is open to me.

  ‘I don’t have a lot of faith in the Old Bill’s methods of catching criminals. After all, they’ve never caught me, have they? I want all of you to drop everything you are doing and find this cretin. And find him fast! I want him dead. As soon as is possible, I want him dead.

  ‘Now, later on today I am having some files delivered here. They will contain the name of every nonce in the South East of England. I want you lot -’ Kelly gestured to the men with a sweep of his arm - ‘to get yourself up individual armies. I don’t care how much it costs, or who the men are, as long as they are reliable. I want every shirt lifter and pervert rousted and trounced as soon as possible.’

  He looked around as his words sunk in.

  ‘At the moment a skirt is on the case, a DI Burrows - a very nice woman by the way. You do not give her any grief, right? But you give as much grief as you like to the other officers! I want them questioned one by one, and anything that they even think is a bit dodgy you find it out, then take it from there. The wedge for the bloke who finds the wanker is two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, tax free. Now, any questions?’

  The six men stared at Kelly with a mixture of sorrow at what had happened to his daughter and joy at the prospect of a quarter of a million pounds.

  No one spoke and he nodded at them.

  ‘OK, lads. Report here with whatever you get. If you find him then I want him first, right? Now then, let’s all have a drink while we get our heads together.’

  Kelly walked through to his bar and a fleeting picture of Kate Burrows came into his mind. She was a fighter - he liked people who stood up to him. He allowed himself a brief smile. He wouldn’t give her any grief. He thought there was a good chance she would find the bloke before he did. She was a good-looking piece as well, even in his trouble he had noticed that. No, he wouldn’t hurt Kate Burrows. He had a feeling that they were going to see more of each other. She’d sat with him through the worst hours of his life. He felt that he owed her something for that at least.

  Once his Mandy was home from hospital and he could concentrate better, he’d make a point of seeing Kate, thanking her.

  He would not allow himself to admit that Mandy might not come home.

  It was like tempting fate.

  Dan sat with his mother-in-law and smiled to himself. Even though he knew that Evelyn couldn’t stand him, he still had a grudging respect for her. Looking round the warm kitchen, he felt, not for the first time, that he had been a fool to leave Kate. That he had dumped her with a small baby sometimes gave his conscience a nasty twinge. Since then he had had his fill of women. They liked him. He knew that, and relied on it to keep a roof over his head and a pretty good standard of living. At forty-six, though, it was beginning to pall. Anthea had not been very nice to him at their final parting. In fact she had pointed out his age in rather a derogatory fashion. She could talk, the bitch! She was on the wrong side of fifty, not that she’d ever admit it. Still, the jibe had stung.

  What really hurt, though, was the fact that she was holidaying in the Canaries for Christmas and he should have been with her. Instead he had had to throw himself on Kate’s mercy. Good old Kate. He knew he was all right with her because of Lizzy. She would do anything for their daughter. He grinned ruefully. Even put up with him. What was worrying him, though, was what he was going to do after the holidays. For the first time he was not going from one home to another.

  Evelyn took the turkey out of the oven and basted it. The smell was absolutely delicious. Suddenly Dan knew without a moment’s doubt that the only course he had left to him was to stay in this house. Somehow he had to get Kate back on his side. She had wanted him for years after he had left. He had seen the naked longing in her face when he had turned up, ostensibly to visit his daughter. He had slipped back into her bed and then, when the time was right, slipped back out of it. He knew that she would not put up with that these days. She had told him once that he was her Achilles heel, but not any more. He would enjoy the chase all the more. Before she knew it she would be eating out of his hand. At least he hoped so anyway.

  Kate had changed over the years. She had made a life for herself, had a good career in the police force. She wasn’t waiting there open-armed any more, but she would still put up with him for Lizzy’s sake and on that he could build.

  He looked at Evelyn and closed his eyes. He’d have to get around her as well.

  His mother-in-law put the kettle on for one of her endless cups of coffee.

  ‘You’re quiet, Dan.’

  ‘Just thinking, Eve, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, don’t strain yourself, son.’

  He grinned.

  ‘I was thinking about Lizzy, actually.’

  He watched Evelyn’s face light up with interest. Her granddaughter was the reason for her existence.

  ‘What about her?’

  He had her interest and crossed his fingers. ‘I feel bad you know, Eve, that I never really saw her grow up.’

  She snorted. ‘Well, you wouldn’t, would you? Always skedaddling off somewhere. You were a fool, you know, Dan. My Kate was a good wife and mother. I watched her die inside when you first left her.’

  She pulled two mugs from their hooks on the wall and slammed them on to the worktop. ‘She worked like a frigging Trojan to give that child a decent upbringing. You never even gave a few pounds here and there to help her out.’

  Danny’s face was a mask of regret. This was not how he wanted the conversation to go. He wanted an ally, he didn’t want recriminations.

  ‘When I came here she was in a terrible state, but she got back to work and she’s done very well for herself, so you leave her alone, Daniel Burrows. I can see through you as if you was made of glass, my boy, always could.

  ‘Now, let’s have a coffee before that child gets in. It’s cold enough to cut the legs from you out there.’

  Danny had the grace to redden. Evelyn knew him so very well. But ever the optimist he decided to wait a while then try again. There wasn’t a woman alive he couldn’t charm if he put his mind to it. He was absolutely certain of that.

  ‘Merry Christmas, George!’

  Elaine smiled at him. Since booking her holiday and going out two nights a week with the girls from work, even life with him had begun to be bearable.

  ‘Merry Christmas, dear.’ He dutifully kissed his wife’s cheek.

  George waited for Elaine to go back to her cooking before he curled his lip with contempt. The house stank of Christmas. Of turkey and mince pies.

  ‘Joseph and Lily will be here soon. Lily’s bringing one of her sherry trifles with her. I hope your mother won’t be a nuisance this year . . .’

  George felt his heart sink down to his boots. It was the same every year. His elder brother Joseph and his wife came for dinner. The brothers rang each other every New Year and Easter, and every Christmas Joseph and Lily
came to dinner. Other than that, they had nothing to do with each other. George wished he had the guts to pick up the phone and tell them to go to hell. He wouldn’t though. He never did.

  He started fidgeting with his knife and fork. He didn’t want any breakfast now. The thought of seeing his mother had made him feel ill.

  He saw her once a year, at Christmas. She lived with Joseph and Lily. Or, more precisely, they lived with her. Joseph might have worked all his life and bought his own house, but from the day his mother had moved in with them, it had become hers. She ruled the roost.

  The only good thing about Elaine was the fact that she gave his mother short shrift. When she was told that Mother wanted to live with them, she had put her foot down firmly. Refusing even to discuss the situation. It was the one and only time in his life that George had been glad he had married her.

  Elaine brought his scrambled eggs to him and he smiled his thanks. He noticed that she looked nice. He looked at her for a long moment and, noticing his look, she laughed. Picking up her own breakfast, she walked to the table and sat down.

  ‘So you finally noticed, then!’

  George stared at her, more puzzled than ever.

  ‘I’ve lost a stone, George. I’m down to eleven and a half now. If I carry on like this I shall be about nine and a half for my holidays!’ She laughed gaily.

  ‘Well, you certainly look much better, dear.’

  ‘Thanks. Haven’t you noticed that I’ve been dieting at all?’

  Her voice was half happy and half sad. George realised that she had been waiting for him to notice before mentioning it.

  ‘Well, I had an idea, but I didn’t like to ask outright . . .’ He was stumbling for the right words and Elaine dropped her eyes.

  After all their years of marriage, there was not an ounce of closeness between them. Since her first night out with the girls, she had discovered a whole new world. A world where George did not exist for her. A world where she could forget about him, just for a while.

  Joseph Markham was at screaming point. Lily had gone into one of her painfully long silences, interspersed with black looks that she threw across the car at him at every set of traffic lights. Behind, Nancy Markham stared at the back of their heads. Her heavily lipsticked mouth was set in a grim line.

  Nancy Markham was big. Her body, which in her young days could bring a grown man to his knees on first sight of it, bulged over the back seat of the car. Her dyed hair, now a vivid burgundy, was shampooed and set like a bloody halo around her face that now sported numerous chins. The only thing about her that were still young-looking and alert were her eyes.

  They were still a startling green colour, except that the once pristine whites were now bloodshot and tinged with yellow. She held her large handbag across her chest like a weapon, her fat pudgy hands gripping the handles so tightly her knuckles were a livid white.

  ‘Mind that lorry!’ Nancy’s voice, naturally loud, was now set at a depth that could melt concrete.

  ‘Mother, the lorry is on the other side of the road. Please, let me drive. I have been doing it for over forty years . . .’

  Nancy Markham interrupted him as if he had not spoken a word. ‘You’re like your father, God rest him. Always in a hurry, never taking his time. You’ll have a heart attack and die, you mark my words. Be careful of the motorbike!’

  Her voice rose on the last few words. Joseph took a deep breath to stem the beating of his heart. If he had a heart attack it would be because of the woman sitting in the back seat!

  She had driven his father to his and she would drive Joseph into having one. He knew that as surely as he knew that she would outlive the lot of them. Look at her! Eighty-one and still going strong. He shook his head as he drove. Please God George would take the brunt of her today, give him and Lily a bit of peace for a few hours. His own two children would not come near his house unless they absolutely had to, thanks to their grandmother’s presence.

  Nancy’s voice broke into his thoughts again.

  ‘Did you see that maniac? My God!’ She swept her arms out in a gesture of hopelessness and knocked Lily’s Lady Diana hat over her eyes. ‘He must have been driving at two hundred miles an hour.’

  Lily straightened her hat and turned to face her mother-in-law.

  ‘Cars can’t go that fast, Nancy. We’re only doing forty-five, so all the others look fast to us.’

  Joseph was aware that his wife was talking between gritted teeth.

  ‘Joseph! Slow the car down. Forty-five miles an hour. Oy! If God had wanted us to travel that fast he’d have given us legs like a cheetah!’

  Joseph carried on driving. He knew that his mother played up her Jewish ancestry to annoy Lily. Sometimes her performance as the Jewish mama was so good he felt like videoing her in action and sending it to BT to use on their adverts. It was a far cry from when he was a child and her Jewishness could never be mentioned, even in passing. Their given name had been Markowitz, but his father had anglicised it shortly after his marriage. In the East End of London then, Jews were classed lower than the Irish. At least the Irish were Catholics. Now, though, his mother revelled in her Jewish ancestry, not because of any love for her religion but because she knew it annoyed Lily who was a Christian Scientist.

  He saw the signs for Grantley and heaved a sigh of relief. Soon they would be at George’s.

  Kate got in just in time for Christmas dinner. She took off her coat in the hall and listened to the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen. Dan must be on top form today. He was a born raconteur. Kate could see him in her mind’s eye sitting up at the breakfast bar, with Lizzy hanging on every word, looking for all the world as if he was in an expensive restaurant.

  She shook herself. For all his faults Dan loved his daughter, she was sure of that much. But sometimes, seeing him brought it all back. All the pain and heartache he had caused her. Especially today, when she felt low, when she had so much going on with the murder inquiry and had to be lighthearted and gay because it was Christmas.

  She walked into the warmth of the lounge and through the door to the kitchen. Dan’s back was to her but Lizzy and her mother were facing her. Both were laughing out loud. Seeing her daughter, in her best dress, her dark hair brushed to a shine, eyes alight with happiness, brought a lump to Kate’s throat. If she ever had to go through what Patrick Kelly had, she would die, she thought.

  ‘Come away in, Katie, I’ve got your dinner nice and warm here.’ Evelyn was off her chair and going to the oven.

  ‘I’ll do it, Mum, you sit back down.’

  Evelyn waved a hand at her. ‘You sit yourself down, young lady, and have a glass of the excellent wine Dan brought. I’ve nearly finished me own dinner anyway.’

  Kate sat beside Dan and he smiled at her.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Kate.’

  His voice was low and while Evelyn was getting the dinner from the oven he brushed her lips with his. Lizzy giggled. Kate was stunned. She expected a lot from Dan, none of it good, but that was the last thing she had anticipated. And the worse part of all was she had felt a shiver inside her as he had done it. She forced a smile on her face and grinned at her daughter.

  ‘Merry Christmas, love.’

  ‘Merry Christmas, Mum. How was it today?’ Her face was concerned.

  ‘Oh, not too bad, we’re getting there.’ She deliberately kept her voice light. Dan had unnerved her and she had a sneaking suspicion he had guessed the fact. He was looking at her now, a smile playing around his lips.

  Evelyn put a large dinner in front of her and Kate felt her appetite return.

  ‘Oh, Mum, that looks great. I’m starving.’

  ‘Dad was just telling us about when he was in Egypt.’

  Kate took a mouthful of turkey and nodded.

  Evelyn sat back at the table and winked at her daughter. Kate noticed the flushed cheeks and guessed she had been on the whiskey, or ‘Holy Water’ as her mother referred to it. Dan poured Kate a glass of wine and she s
ipped it.

  ‘Tell Mum about the Valley of the Kings, Dad.’

  ‘Your mother’s not interested in all that.’

  ‘Oh, but I am, Dan. You carry on with your story.’

  Dan was where he wanted to be. He had an attentive audience and he loved it. He would try and impress Kate with his worldliness. She might deal with rapists and murderers and the lowest of the low, but he was an adventurer, a traveller, and that beat policing hands down!

  ‘Well, we got to Luxor. It was something else, you know, the Nile. I mean, it was just a thrill to be there. To be walking along the banks. Well, you get a boat and cross over to the Valley of the Kings . . .’

  ‘And Queens.’ Kate spoke through a mouthful of food.

  ‘Well, yes, and the Valley of the Queens. We went into Tutankhamen’s burial chamber. You would have loved it, Lizzy. The paintings on the ceilings . . .’

  Kate let Dan go on. She felt like asking him why he hadn’t taken her with him; Lizzy would have loved it and Anthea’s boys had gone, she knew that for a fact. While Dan was describing the delights of Egypt, Kate drank her wine and carried on eating. She had heard it all before. Oh, not Egypt, but other places - all described in detail in the same sing-song voice. Kate closed her eyes and berated herself.

  Dan’s kiss had affected her more than she liked to admit. She had been without a man for far too long, that was her trouble. There were plenty of men at work who had asked her out over the years, but they had nearly all been married. The few who had been divorced only wanted to talk about cases, with a bit of sex thrown in, and that had never appealed to Kate. One thing she had learnt in the police force: male police officers could be the biggest whores going but a policewoman, especially one in a senior position, had to be above reproach.

  ‘What’s the matter, Mum?’ Lizzy’s voice was concerned.

  ‘Oh, just thinking, poppet. That’s all.’

  Dan put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him. ‘You leave that old job behind you now, Kate. You’ve got your family around you.’