Paternoster Read online

  ‘How d’you mean?’ Eden asked.

  ‘Coming to a singles club for years.’ He gave a low whistle and Eden instantly liked him.

  ‘Doesn’t she get lucky, then?’

  ‘Bit of a bunny boiler, that one, if you ask me,’ the barman said. ‘She meets a guy, they’re going out, then suddenly she’s back here and it’s black looks and bitter feelings.’

  ‘She can pull them in, then?’

  The barman laughed. ‘Yeah, she can pull them in all right, it’s landing them, cooking them and eating them that’s the problem.’ He bent across the bar and in a low voice said, ‘That Paul Nelson you were asking about. She went out with him for a while. I don’t know what happened, if she got clingy or jealous, you know how these middle-aged women get. Anyway, it all went very nasty.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘She hated him, and she didn’t care who knew it. They do these games where everyone has to talk to everyone else in the room.’ He rolled his eyes to show what he felt about such shenanigans. ‘She got paired with him a few weeks back and refused to speak to him. Turned her back on him and let him just stand there like a prat.’

  ‘Not very nice.’

  ‘Then last time he was in here …’

  Eden pronged an olive with a cocktail stick. ‘When was that?’

  ‘Last week. Paul was here at the bar, chatting to me about cars. He’s got a Spider, y’know? Beautiful thing. Anyway, Donna comes up and when I went to pour Paul’s drink, she says to me, “Put arsenic in that for him”.’

  ‘Arsenic?’

  ‘That’s what she said. Slip arsenic in his drink for me.’ He nodded for emphasis. ‘And the look on her face, she meant it all right.’

  CHAPTER

  TEN

  Thursday, 26 February 2015

  06:26 hours

  Aidan was already up when Eden stirred. She liked to leave her curtains open so the morning sun could filter in and rouse her gently, but this morning the window was as grey as thousand-wash knickers. Raining again.

  She shuffled out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown. Tying the belt, she padded into her living room, where Aidan was settled on the settee with a mug of coffee and the TV news.

  She plopped a kiss on to the top of his head. ‘Morning.’

  ‘Sorry if I woke you. I’ve got an early start.’

  ‘That’s all right.’

  ‘You sleep OK?’

  ‘Fine.’ A lie. She’d dreamed of Molly again, and awoke feeling sick and depressed. ‘Is there any more coffee?’

  ‘There’s a pot full. It’s still hot, I’ve only just made it.’

  As she yawned her way towards the kitchen, the phone rang. Half six! Who was ringing at this time?

  ‘Leave it. It’s too early,’ she called from the kitchen. ‘The answering machine will pick it up.’

  She was pouring a mug of coffee when the answering machine clicked in and delivered her curt message. This is Eden Grey. Leave a message and I’ll call you back. Then a voice she hadn’t heard for a long time sounded in her flat.

  ‘Hi, it’s Miranda. I’m calling to let you know Little Jimmy has been found dead. He was killed about two weeks ago.’ A pause. ‘Look, I don’t want to frighten you, but Hammond’s hallmark was on the body. So you take care. Bye.’

  Eden stared unseeing at the coffee pot, only realising what she was doing when scalding coffee dripped on to her foot. Little Jimmy dead. Hammond’s hallmark. Jesus, what a way to die.

  ‘Eden?’ Aidan appeared in the kitchen doorway. His face was white with shock. ‘What the hell was that about? Who was it?’

  She shrugged and set about cleaning up the spilt coffee. ‘No idea. Wrong number?’

  ‘Wrong number? It was about someone being killed, for goodness sake! You’d better call the police.’

  ‘The police already know.’

  Aidan blinked at her.

  ‘The message said a body had been found. Someone will have told the police.’ She lifted her coffee mug, realised her hand was trembling, and put it back down again. She forced her voice into normality. ‘Nothing to do with me, anyway.’

  Aidan dragged his fingers through his dark hair, glancing from her to the answering machine.

  ‘Top up?’ Eden said, pointing at the coffee pot.

  ‘Erm, OK.’

  He fetched his mug and she refilled it, then grabbed her coffee and headed to the bathroom, calling over her shoulder, ‘I’ll have the first shower, if that’s OK. I can dry my hair while you’re having yours. Help yourself to toast and cereal.’

  She locked the bathroom door and sat on the toilet shuddering. Little Jimmy dead. Hammond’s hallmarks on his body. She knew those hallmarks all too well. Her stomach clenched and she puked into the hand basin, running the cold tap full pelt to cover up the noise. Hot coffee and stomach acid scorched the back of her throat. She heaved and heaved until she brought up bile. She tipped the rest of her coffee down the sink after it.

  She yanked the shower up hot and scrubbed so hard her skin reddened. A shot of cold water refreshed her. She’d call Miranda when she got to her office, find out what was what. No need to panic just yet. After all, she’d been safe so far.

  Aidan shot her a funny look as he passed her and took his turn in the shower. Maybe he’d heard her retching, but if so, he didn’t ask. She made herself eat breakfast, forcing down each mouthful, consoled by the comforting sound of another human being in the flat with her. Someone she could rely on.

  Aidan reappeared with wet hair, wearing his clothes from the night before. ‘I’d better go,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to go home and change and then head out to the Park School.’

  He was desperate to quiz her about the answering machine message, she could tell. Time to divert him.

  ‘Who was that Lisa who popped round to your place yesterday?’ she said, carelessly, stacking their breakfast dishes in the sink. ‘The one with your scarf?’

  Aidan tensed and Eden realised she’d miscalculated. Uneasily, she waited for him to answer.

  ‘She’s an ex-girlfriend from university,’ he said.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘She asked me something.’ Eden nibbled the skin around her thumbnail as she waited for him to go on. He was so obviously uncomfortable that she knew this wasn’t going to be a good conversation. Eventually he blurted out, ‘She wants a baby. And she wants me to be its father.’

  Eden flopped back against the kitchen workbench, unable to speak. She stared at him in disbelief.

  ‘I know. She’s crazy. I told her about us, but she asked anyway.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  He shrugged. ‘I said I’d think about it.’

  ‘You … what?’ She was stunned.

  ‘Look, we’ll talk about it later.’

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about. Either you want to have a baby with her or you don’t. It’s quite simple.’

  ‘We’ll talk later.’ He kissed her cheek and let himself out of the flat.

  A baby. Aidan having a baby with someone else. Her instincts bristled. What else did this Lisa want from Aidan? And what did he want from her?

  Before she left the flat, she went through her usual routine more carefully than ever, checking each window was closed and locked, placing a hair across each window and doorframe, pulling out the drawers a fraction. She let herself out, locked the door, and strung a hair across the doorway. She scouted out the hallway and car park, making sure no one was watching the building. Before unlocking her car, she ducked down and examined the chassis and wheel arches for bombs.

  All OK. She got into the car and engaged central locking, sealing herself inside. She sat for a while, steadying her breathing, before she turned the key in the ignition and drove away.

  Aidan kicked himself all the way from Eden’s flat to his own. It had come out all wrong, that nonsense about Lisa wanting a baby. He crawled with shame every time he thought about it. After they’d had dinner together in the
Italian restaurant on Tuesday night, he’d walked Lisa back to her hotel. It was a chilly evening and she’d taken his arm and huddled close to him, sucking his body heat like a thermal vampire. At her hotel, he’d made to turn away, but she’d invited him in for a drink and a chat about old times, and like an idiot, he’d agreed. Maybe he was still reeling from the kiss in his flat; or maybe there was a part of him that was tempted to start everything up again with her, even though he knew it was sheer folly.

  She’d raided the mini bar in her room, cracking the caps off two whiskies and pouring them into tumblers. He tried to refuse, but Lisa held his gaze and pushed the glass towards him.

  ‘Go on, it won’t kill you,’ she said. ‘Help you sleep. Medicinal, almost.’

  So he’d drunk the whisky and they’d talked: talked far too much about the past, their relationship. They’d been together for a year at university, both of them doctoral students. He remembered the anguish of being with her: so beautiful, and yet so independent and free he never really felt that she was his. Lisa had replenished their glasses and fixed her huge eyes on him and told him she regretted losing him.

  ‘You had ambitions,’ he said, aware that he was flattered and discomfited equally.

  ‘The war graves. Yes.’ She sloshed another miniature into her glass. A bit overshot the rim and landed on her fingers. She licked it off. ‘But I paid the price. Now here I am, single, lonely and childless.’

  He didn’t answer.

  She continued. ‘I keep on doing the sums. I’m thirty-five now. If I find a great bloke this minute, it’ll be about a year before I know he’s the one. Get married – that’s another year to sort that out. That makes me thirty-seven. A couple of years getting used to being married: thirty-nine. Even if I get pregnant straight away, I’ll be forty when I have a baby. Geriatric.’ She glanced across at him. ‘So, I’ve decided the best thing to do is cut out some of the stages.’ She was slurring now. ‘Forget about the handsome man and the tulle. What the fuck is tulle, anyway? Prob’ly something I don’t need but brides are expected to have. Anyway, forget all of that shit, and just have the baby.’

  ‘Sperm donor?’ he said.

  ‘Exactly. But not off the internet. Could be anyone. Someone in prison spending all day wanking for all I know. No, I don’t want that. I want to know who the father is. Someone good looking and kind and clever.’ She faced him. ‘Someone like you, in fact. What d’you reckon? Will you give me a baby?’

  He’d stared at her, stunned and shocked, afraid she’d simply lunge at him and seduce him and that would be her impregnated. Ta da!

  ‘I’ve got Eden,’ he’d stammered. Like the presence of a girlfriend would stop Lisa when she’d set her mind on something, or someone.

  ‘Oh yes, Eden, the private dick,’ Lisa said. ‘I don’t have to keep you forever, if you don’t want, just until there’s a baby. Soon as I’m up the duff, you can go scurrying back.’

  Aidan winced. He didn’t dare ask about the logistics. Even if he agreed to her mad plan. Which he didn’t. But he presumed she had it all worked out, the mechanics of the thing, and that embarrassed him more than anything.

  She read his mind. ‘You worrying about how?’ she asked. ‘We could use a turkey baster, but I’d prefer the traditional method.’ She walked her fingers up his arm to his shoulder and tickled his ear. ‘Too gorgeous.’

  Heaving himself to his feet, he’d said, ‘I’ll think about it,’ and left, swiftly.

  Now he’d blurted it out to Eden. The look of hurt in her eyes when he’d told her, not that Lisa had asked, he couldn’t help that, but that he hadn’t firmly said no at the time. He’d just grabbed his coat and scarpered; that’s how he’d left his scarf behind, giving Lisa the perfect opportunity for causing more trouble.

  Damn her! Why couldn’t she just piss off back to Oxford and leave him alone, instead of coming here churning things up.

  How well do you know Eden? That question kept haunting him. Damn Lisa for exploiting the chink in his armour. It’s what she excelled at: finding the Achilles’ heel and working it. Even after all this time, he didn’t know Eden that well. It was as if she only existed from the day he met her. She never talked about anything from her past.

  The phone message that morning creeped him out. What the hell was that about? Some man dead, hallmarks on the body, Eden needed to take care. What did that mean? More than the message, Eden’s breezy assertion that it was a wrong number and there was no need to panic frightened him. She’d changed the subject but he’d seen the look on her face when the answering machine clicked on. She knew the caller, he was certain of it. And now she was afraid.

  His mind full of doubts and recriminations, Aidan changed into his work clothes and drove to the Park School. He dragged on steel-capped boots and headed towards the excavation. It was raining, a fine mist that penetrated and soaked without you realising. He’d called in to speak to the site manager the day before to warn him about the tunnels, and that there were some anomalies in the geophys that could be more human remains. They agreed to halt the building work while Aidan’s team excavated the anomalies, and while further geophys confirmed the tunnels wouldn’t be underneath the foundations of the new sports hall.

  ‘You don’t want the whole thing to give way,’ Aidan had said to the site manager.

  The site manager looked as though he couldn’t care less, time was money, but agreed that hauling a JCB out of a Georgian tunnel wasn’t going to be good for business, and allowed the team until the end of the week to clear the site archaeologically.

  Aidan strode over to the excavation, relishing the thought of a day in the fresh air, despite the rain, scraping back the soil and recording finds. He stopped dead when he reached the trench.

  At the bottom, where they’d unearthed the skeletons, a woman lay crumpled, face down in the mud. Her short red dress strained across her rump. She was wearing one red satin high-heeled shoe; its twin lay on its side in the earth, the bow on the front caked with mud. ‘Oh God,’ he breathed. He jumped into the trench and inched towards her. ‘Hello? Can you hear me?’

  No movement. He was beside her now, looking down, praying she would groan and ease herself up out of the mud.

  Nothing.

  He grasped the woman’s shoulders and turned her over. Two glassy eyes stared at him. He staggered back with a cry and crashed into the side of the trench. For a moment, he gaped at her, gasping and fighting to keep control. Short, hard breaths escaped through his mouth. The woman had fallen back on to her face when he let her go. He wanted to turn her over, to give her some dignity, but he couldn’t touch her again. One glimpse of those dead eyes was enough.

  His hands fumbled for his phone. He dialled the police, gave details in abrupt, disjointed sentences and hung up. He fought to control his breathing. Black dots filled his vision, and he doubled over to stop himself passing out. He sucked in cool, rainy air until the panic subsided, then called Eden.

  None of the other units were stirring when Eden arrived at her office at just past seven. The building creaked as she entered, and she was thankful that the overhead strip light dispelled some of the gloom. She locked the door behind her and made a coffee to steady her nerves before picking up the phone and dialling. Five rings. Six. A pulse jerked in her throat as she counted.

  Just as she was about to hang up, a woman’s voice said, ‘Hello?’

  ‘Miranda? I got your message.’ Her throat was so dry her voice came out as a scratch.

  ‘Who is this?’ The voice, tetchy and familiar, spun her back across the years to her rookie days and meeting Miranda for the first time. The ballsy, no-nonsense woman she’d resented at first, then come to rely on.

  Eden said, ‘You left me a message about Little Jimmy.’

  Silence for a beat, then, ‘Christ. You shouldn’t have called me. How are you?’

  ‘Surviving. Tell me what happened.’

  ‘He came out of prison and disappeared. Didn’t check in with his pro
bation officer, no surprise there. Then someone reported a funny smell from an empty house in nowhere-ville, and it was him. What was left of him, poor bastard.’

  ‘Hammond?’

  A click and a deep breath: Miranda lighting a cigarette. ‘He’s still inside, but he has plenty of people on the outside. We only know about five per cent of them, tops. Jimmy was kept safe in prison, by them, not us. We took our eye off the ball, then soon as he was out, that’s it.’ Another deep inhalation. ‘Hammond’s patient, I’ll give him that.’

  Eden clutched the phone tighter, her palm slick with sweat. ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold,’ she said, hardly able to force the words out between her teeth. Her throat kept spasming as if she was going to be sick.

  ‘He got his revenge all right. Arrogant prick left his hallmark on the body. Bragging that it was him, but he’s inside so we can’t finger him for it.’

  ‘Any evidence?’

  ‘Pure as a wipe-clean wimple. A pro.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Eden swallowed, her throat clicking. ‘Just needed to know. You know.’

  ‘Look,’ Miranda said, hurriedly, ‘you take care of yourself.’

  ‘I always do.’

  A laugh. ‘We both know that’s not true.’

  Eden smiled ruefully. A long time ago, now, she reminded herself. A different life. ‘How are … Mum and Dad?’ she asked, suddenly afraid.

  Miranda sighed. ‘I don’t know, and I can’t find out for you. You know the rules.’

  ‘I know,’ Eden rubbed her eyes and said, softly, ‘Thanks, Miranda,’ and hung up before Miranda could say anything else.

  Her pulse was just returning to normal when Aidan called. She almost didn’t answer, assuming he was calling to talk about his announcement that some other woman wanted to have his child. Molly’s dark eyes swam before her and her heart tightened. Squashing down a surge of grief, she picked up her phone.

  ‘Hello Aidan.’

  ‘You know that woman you told me to talk to yesterday?’