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  ‘And after the accident?’

  ‘She didn’t come to me if that’s what you’re thinking,’ Jacob said. ‘I was the one who made the approach. I thought she might be having financial problems and I was right. I knew she’d never ask you, she’d see it as begging, and so I told her … I told her that Peter had made arrangements for the payments to continue, that it was just a matter of the will going through probate.’

  ‘The will?’ Jo said. ‘But Peter didn’t make a will.’

  ‘She didn’t know that and I couldn’t think of any other way to get her to accept the money.’

  ‘It was my idea,’ Deborah said. ‘It seemed the best solution, the only solution. I’m sure it was what Peter would have wanted. He could never have meant for Constance and Leo to be left with nothing.’

  Again, Jo flinched. It was the proprietorial tone of her voice that set her on edge, as if Deborah had considered herself privy to all of Peter’s thoughts and intentions. ‘Of course it wasn’t the only solution. You could have come to me and explained. Did you really imagine I’d refuse to help? What kind of a person do you think I am?’

  ‘Well,’ Deborah retorted, ‘that was the problem. At the time – it was two years ago – we barely knew you. If we’d asked and you’d said no, it would’ve been impossible to take the money from the business. It seemed easier to just—’

  ‘Go behind my back?’

  Deborah simply shrugged.

  ‘It was wrong,’ Jacob said. ‘We were wrong. I’m sorry.’

  Deborah didn’t seem quite so willing to apologise. She put a hand on her hip and stared defiantly into Jo’s eyes. ‘We did what we thought was the right thing at the time.’

  ‘But what about later?’ Jo said. ‘Were you ever going to tell me or did you intend to keep me in ignorance for ever?’

  Jacob ran his hands through his thick white hair. ‘I wanted to tell you, we both wanted to, but the longer it went on the harder it became. I suppose we just … just …’

  ‘And what about the shortfall?’ Jo said. ‘Peter was giving Constance five hundred, not two.’

  ‘Jacob and I have been making up the difference.’

  Jo looked at them both and sighed. ‘For heaven’s sake.’ She thought of all the money she had sitting in her bank account. The insurance had paid off the mortgage on the flat and there had been a life policy as well. Peter had left her more than well provided for. There had been no need for any of this subterfuge. If only he had talked to her, confided in her about Constance before …

  ‘So what happens now?’ Deborah said.

  ‘Nothing happens.’

  Deborah frowned at her. ‘Nothing?’ She looked a little irked as if she’d been gearing up for a scrap.

  ‘I’m not happy about what you did but I understand your reasons. I’ll make sure you’re reimbursed for everything you’ve paid out.’

  ‘There’s no need for that.’

  ‘There’s every need,’ Jo insisted. ‘I’ll write you both a cheque. And Jacob, you can take Constance off the payroll. I’ll be paying her directly from now on.’

  ‘That might, er … it could cause some problems with tax and—’

  ‘Well, whatever.’ She waved a hand dismissively. ‘We’ll discuss it tomorrow. We’ll sort something out.’

  There was a short silence before Jacob slowly got up from his seat. As if all the vigour had been drained from his bones, he suddenly looked old and fragile. He leaned forward and touched her arm.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jo.’

  She managed a small wavering smile. ‘It’s all right. I think it’s better if we put all this behind us. There’s no point dwelling on it. Just so long as we’ve got everything out in the open, that there isn’t anything else I should know about.’

  He didn’t reply immediately.

  ‘There isn’t,’ Deborah said sharply.

  Jo glanced back at Jacob. He paused but shook his head. ‘No, that’s it.’

  Seeing his hesitation, she almost asked: Do you promise? Do you swear? But even as the words rose to her lips, she swallowed them back down. They sounded too childish, too desperate. He was just shaken up by everything that had happened and she had endured enough humiliation without voluntarily adding to it. ‘Goodnight, then,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  After they had gone, Jo sat back and groaned. She felt more than weary. She felt exhausted, as if all she wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep. Her anger had washed away and all that was left in its wake was a dull pound of sadness and disappointment. Her head was aching. Although it upset her, she could see the reasons for their initial deception and the subsequent difficulty in owning up to it. Their silence over Constance’s plight was just about understandable but Peter’s was another matter altogether.

  ‘Why?’ she murmured.

  Had he suspected, like Jacob and Deborah, that she might not be entirely agreeable to the idea of Constance being helped? But how could he? How could he ever think that? She had never been greedy or grasping. She had never given him any reason to think that she’d object. Stinging tears rose to her eyes. She quickly brushed them away. It was dreadful to imagine that he could have thought so badly of her.

  ‘Why?’ she muttered again. ‘Why didn’t you talk to me?’

  Jo gazed around the room, at all the box files lined up along the shelves. There must be over fifty of them. She was reminded of Deborah, only a short while ago, quickly searching for – and finding – that one important file. How had she had known exactly where to look? Jo realised, with a sinking heart, that this was where Peter must have kept all his personal papers. Not at home, not at Barley Road, but right here in the office. It was another piece of evidence to show how little Peter had trusted her.

  She was tempted to start looking through the files. What else was hidden here? Perhaps, if she searched hard enough, she could find all kind of stuff relating to Peter’s past: papers, letters, photographs.

  She jumped to her feet but suddenly stopped. What was she doing? She’d had enough revelations for one day … and enough disappointment. She took a deep breath, picked up her bag and headed for the door.

  It was time to go home.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Marty watched as she gazed down at the plans of the building. The crumbling, abandoned factory had been empty for years. She smiled. Finally it was all coming together.

  ‘Delaney’s going to freak,’ Susan said.

  ‘He’s already doing that. You should have seen his face when he got the pictures. I thought he was going to croak right that minute.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Christ, I wish I could be there. Are you sure I couldn’t—’

  ‘What and leave the kid on her own?’ Marty quickly shook his head. It was typical of the bitch to start wanting to change things at the last minute. ‘No way. We agreed – we don’t take any chances.’ He sat back in the chair and put his hands behind his head. ‘We’re almost there, babe. Let’s not screw up now.’

  Susan nodded. It was a disappointment but she knew he was right. ‘And he’s got the cash ready?’

  ‘All you need to do is send the first text through tomorrow night at nine.’

  ‘I tell him to take the money, to go to the club and wait.’

  ‘And then?’

  Susan smiled again. ‘And then we leave him to sweat for the next three hours. At midnight, I send through the next text with orders to go directly to the factory, to use the side door on Deever Road, to go alone and unarmed.’

  ‘Which he won’t,’ Marty said. ‘He’ll take me with him for back-up and he’ll have a shooter too.’

  ‘For which blatant disregard of instructions, he’ll be made to pay.’

  ‘Naturally. And he won’t make the same mistake again. By the weekend, when the real exchange takes place, he’ll be begging us to take his money.’

  ‘And we will,’ she said.

  Marty bent down, took a long blonde wig out of a carrier bag and held i
t up. ‘What do you think? It’s pretty gloomy in there but there’s enough light coming in from the street to be able to find your way about. Plus, I’ll make sure we take a torch.’

  Susan ran her fingers through the false fair hair. She nodded. ‘Yeah, it’ll do. Where’s the mannequin?’

  ‘Already there. She’s looking good but she’ll look even better when she’s up on the balcony, tied to a chair with her hair and clothes on.’

  Susan scowled. ‘It’s not a she, it’s just a dummy.’

  Marty grinned back at her. ‘Hark at you, little Miss Sensitive!’ Seeing her face grow darker, he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Oh, come on. There’s no need to be like that. I’m only trying to get in the mood. Don’t forget that I’m the one who has to be there. If I can’t pretend that I believe it’s Silver, how is Vic going to be convinced?’

  Slowly, her expression cleared. She didn’t like it but she could see his line of reasoning. ‘I guess.’

  ‘So have you got the clothes?’

  Susan stood up and opened one of the kitchen drawers. She pulled out a new pink T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. ‘These were as close as I could get but I doubt if he’ll notice the difference.’ She put them on the table and took out the shoes. ‘At least these are original. He should remember them. They’re Jimmy Choos, pretty new, and they must have cost him a fortune.’

  Marty turned the pink satin shoes with their distinctive buckles over in his hand. ‘Shit,’ he said, tapping the narrow three-inch heels against the table. ‘You could kill a man with these.’

  ‘You could,’ Susan said. ‘But I doubt if any right-thinking woman would want to get blood on them.’

  She lowered her head to stare at the plans of the factory again. With her index finger, she traced the route Delaney would take, starting at the door, crossing the floor and stopping halfway up the stairs. ‘Are you sure this is going to work?’

  Marty groaned. They had been through it all at least ten times already. ‘Of course it is. As he reaches that point, he’ll be able to see her, although not very clearly. She’ll have her head down. He won’t think twice. He hasn’t got the brains for it. He’ll rush forward and then …’

  Marty saw the look of pleasure that crossed her face. At that moment she reminded him of one of those black widow spiders preparing for lunch. Women, he decided, really were the deadlier species.

  Susan took a moment to savour the prospect of Vic Delaney’s agony before returning to the practicalities. ‘What if someone hears you? What if they report it?’

  ‘Not much chance of that. Anyway, we’ll be well gone by the time anyone gets round to checking it out.’ Marty stuffed the clothes in the bag and checked his watch. It was almost nine. ‘Right, I’m going to split. I need to keep an eye on Vic, make sure he doesn’t start having second thoughts.’

  ‘Is he likely to?’ Susan said, sounding suddenly anxious. ‘I thought … what if he decides to pull out, to call the Law instead? What will we do then?’

  ‘He won’t,’ Marty said impatiently. ‘For fuck’s sake, don’t start stressing. It’s only natural that he’s going to think about it. He’d be a fool not to. Silver’s his only kid, not to mention the fact that there’s half a million quid at stake. But he’s not going to do anything stupid, at least not when I’m around to remind him of what the consequences could be.’

  Susan gave a sigh. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’

  He stood up and laid a hand on her arm reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, okay? I’ve got it covered.’

  Susan walked with him to the hall. She opened the door and stood aside. ‘Call me.’

  ‘I’ll give you a bell tomorrow.’

  There was a moment of silence.

  ‘Well,’ she said. ‘Good luck.’

  Marty nodded. ‘You too.’ Personally, he was of the opinion that luck had nothing to do with it but women were full of superstitions and it never did any harm to pander to their more whimsical notions.

  He strolled down the path, got in the car and drove off at a steady pace. It was a shame that he hadn’t had the opportunity to see Silver again but there wasn’t much point when Susan was looking over his shoulder. And what the hell, his baby girl wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry. There was plenty of time and that was part of the joy of it. What did they call it – delayed gratification? The longer you waited, the better it was.

  Marty grinned as he gazed out through the windscreen. The light was gradually failing. The sky, a deep Prussian blue, had only a few pale streaks left in it. He loved the city at night and he especially loved this moment as it began to slide from one world into another. In a few hours’ time, the moral commuters would have got on their cattle trains, the upright citizens would have gone home and locked their doors, and the streets would begin to fill with a different population. The city of vice would have raised its head again.

  He pulled up in front of a skip, had a quick look round to make sure no one was watching and got out of the car and dumped the carrier bag. He wouldn’t be needing the clothes Susan had bought or the wig. They weren’t worth the bother. The only items he kept back were the shoes.

  As he got back in the car, he thought about Susan again and started to laugh. It always got to him, how bloody stupid women were. And the vengeful ones were the worst. It must be getting on for a year now since he’d first met her, since she’d originally come sniffing round. He’d known she was trouble right from the off. Oh, she was a looker all right, but she’d never quite fitted in with the other girls. And when she’d begun to ask all those questions …

  It hadn’t taken him long to find out what was going on. Susan was digging for information on her sister, a sister who had disappeared about fourteen years ago … and the last place Linda Clark had been seen was where she worked – at Vic Delaney’s club.

  Marty had got in fast. It had started off as damage limitation – he’d intended to warn her off, to get rid of her – but then he’d had a better idea. Why look a gift horse in the mouth? And Lord, it had all been so easy. He had studied the photograph and nodded. Yes, he remembered Linda, of course he did. She’d worked at Honey’s. She’d been a nice girl, smart, everyone had liked her. Especially Vic. Hadn’t the two of them been going out just before—

  Susan’s brown eyes, predictably, had grown as wide as saucers. ‘What, she’d been going out with Delaney?’

  And then, naturally, he’d backtracked as quickly as he could. Well, he wasn’t absolutely sure. He could be wrong. Maybe his memory was playing tricks. Anyway, it was probably best for her to drop it. Vic was a private guy; he didn’t like people delving into his past.

  ‘Why? What’s he got to hide?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He’d shrugged. ‘Well, nothing more than any ex-con with a certain kind of reputation.’ And then, as if uneasy that they might be seen talking together, he’d glanced furtively around the room and lowered his voice. ‘Look, I’ve already said too much. Just forget it, okay?’

  But of course Susan wasn’t going to forget it. Every opportunity she got, she was on his case, urging, begging, pleading with him to tell her more. It was the most fun he’d had in months. Slowly he’d cultivated her suspicions, dropping clues, drip-feeding tiny snippets of information that exploited all her fears about Linda’s disappearance … and put Delaney firmly in the frame.

  Susan’s determination, along with her frustration, had grown and grown. But she wasn’t completely stupid. ‘Why are you telling me all this?’

  ‘Because I liked Linda. I want to know what happened. I want to help.’

  He had needed her to believe that he was on side, that he had nothing but contempt for his boss, but Susan was going to take some persuading. She was never going to trust him until he gave her good reason. He had to prove that despite all his years of working with Delaney, they were no longer close. And that had come at a price.

  It had cost him a couple of very public beatings. Twice he’d had to wind Vic up, making sure that she was there to witness i
t. The first time he’d just received a couple of punches. The second time had been more dramatic. It was only when he’d been knocked to the ground, kicked in the ribs and left bleeding on the floor that she’d finally started to believe in him.

  Marty flinched at the memory. Three cracked ribs and a bloodied nose – he could still feel the pain. Still, it had been worth it. Susan had finally found an ally, someone who had a reason to hate Delaney as much as she did.

  From that point on, it had been plain sailing. Convinced that Delaney was vicious enough to have murdered her sister, Susan was out to get him. It hadn’t taken him long to persuade her that the cops wouldn’t do anything. If she wanted revenge, she would need to take another road … and he’d had plenty of suggestions as to just how twisted that road could be.

  Marty pulled the car up at the lights, leaned back and smiled. Kidnapping Silver had been the perfect solution, a means to make Delaney pay for his sins and make some money too. And Susan had jumped at the opportunity. When the time came for goodbyes, he wondered whether she would put up as good a fight as her sister. He had always preferred the feisty ones – and Linda had certainly been that.

  Although her features had grown blurry through the years – only that long, thick hair was truly memorable – he could still recall Linda Clark’s attitude. She was a girl who wanted to get on. She was also the type who freely displayed the ‘goods’ on offer but then grew all coy when it came to delivering. A fuckin’ tease, that’s what she’d been. And nobody messed with Marty Gull that way.

  Linda had been happy enough to leave the club with him, to go for a drive and then on to his flat for a late-night drink. The bitch had known exactly what she was doing – all those sultry up-for-it glances, all those flirty remarks – and then, just as things were getting interesting, she’d gone cold on him, said she’d changed her mind, that she wanted to go home. Marty shook his head. Some women had it coming – and that was a fact.

  Still, he hadn’t expected her to struggle quite so much. Most of them, at least the ones who were smart, gave up after the first slap or two. The stupid cow might still be alive today if she hadn’t started blubbing, hitting out and trying to scream like some goddamn bloody virgin. After all, he’d only been after what was rightfully his. It wasn’t too much to ask, was it? He’d had to shut her up, shut her up for good, and there was only one way of doing that.