Chapter 2

Twenty-Four Years Ago. Klempner

Bech looks smug. “Sir, I’ve found them.”

“Them?”

“Conners and the girl.”

“About time, Bech. After so long, I’d almost given up.”

“Yes, sir.”

I think he expects me to congratulate him, but it was his heavy-handedness two years ago that lost them in the first place.

“Where are they?”

“Here in the City, only a couple of miles away.”

“Seriously?”

Is he dense?

Or just over-confident?

“Seriously.” Bech shrugs. “Wouldn’t have been my first choice but maybe they think by lying low it’ll go away.”

“How did you find them?”

“Easily enough. I’ve been keeping an eye on that apartment she was living in. It’s been standing empty. It was a cert she’d put it up for sale sooner or later…”

“She might have rented it out…”

“In which case I’d have found a reason to talk to the tenant and enquire about the landlord’s shady activities. As it is, she’s selling it, and guess who she’s using as real estate agent?”

“Conners? His business closed down.”

“So it did, but he’s started up again, using someone else as a front.”

Thinks he’s clever?

“And…?”

Bech smirks. “A burglary at the premises.… Some petty thieving… A computer taken, a printer, petty cash… some other odds and ends. Enough to make it look genuine. But the customer files were broken into during the vandalization that followed.”

“So you have their address?”

“I do.”

“What about the ‘stolen goods’?”

He shrugs. “Dumped them in a flop a few streets away. The crack-head there was so zoned he didn’t even see me do it. When he comes round he’ll probably think he did it himself and try to sell them stuff.” His mouth twists to a smile. “Probably pay for his next fix.” The smile fades. “Sir, there’s something you should know.”

“And what’s that?”

“They’re married. They’ve got a kid.”

Mitch and Conners…

Playing happy families…

My temperatures rises. “We’ll go find him, shall we?”

Bech reaches for car keys, jangles them in his hand. “And her?”

“You don’t touch her. She’s mine.”

*****

Bech speaks quietly. “There he is now. The green saloon, just coming around the corner. You got him?”

“I’ve got him. Where’s the girl?”

“Not seen her.”

The area’s run-down, grubby, populated by cheap houses and tired people

Squalid little dump…

Should demolish the lot…

Living here… After everything I offered her…

Gave her…

Bech eyes me. I regather my thoughts. “Good. We’ll take Conners now…”

The car indicates, pulling over. Conners steps out, then rummages inside, taking out a briefcase and a newspaper, putting them on top of the car then stooping back inside.

He’s put on weight…

Too much of the good life and home cooking…

A swarm of small girls in witch’s outfits, skeleton-painted dungarees and goblin masks giggles by.

Bech stirs, but I say, “Wait ‘til these kids have moved along.”

A three-foot high mistress-of-the-night, complete with pointy hat and fake raisin-on-the-nose wart stops by us, holding out a tin. Bech scowls. I drop in a few coppers. “Thanks, Mister!” she yells and chases after the group.

“McCullen, Andrech, you’re with me.” Bech thumbs his latest ‘trainees’, each dressed in dark blue pants and shirt, towards our target. They march smartly towards where Conners, briefcase, newspaper and a lunchbox under one arm, is turning the key in the door.

The door opens and, coming from behind, a man to each side, they take him by the arms, barging inside and out of sight.

Whistling a happy tune, I watch them enter then stroll down a side-alley to the back of the house where the car is waiting. I lean against it, arms folded, making sure that I can be seen by anyone coming out of the back door.

Less than a minute later, the door opens and Conners, hands cuffed behind him, comes out, McCullen and Andrech to either side, Bech behind him. As he claps eyes on me his face drains…

“Larry… I…”

He doesn’t have the chance to say more. Bundled into the back of the car, flanked left and right by his guards, he’s going nowhere.

Bech tosses me the keys. “You joining us?” I ask.

“I’m going to take a look around. I’ll see you in an hour or so.” He looks up into a bright blue sky, inhales cool air. “It’s a lovely day. The walk will do me good.”

Curtains twitch. Bech looks across, his face pulling to a tight little smile. One genuine cop’s uniform and two close lookalikes. None of the neighbours will question how Conners left.

Bech continues, one eye on the twitcher. “And I’ll put a stop to any rumours.”

I climb in the car. From behind me, Frank’s voice, shaky, “Larry, it’s not…”

“Shut him up,” I suggest. There’s a muffled thump and gasp.

*****

Twenty-Four Years Ago

Bech wanders back into the house, closing the door behind him. Tugging a frayed curtain aside, he watches to be sure the car pulls away, then makes his way to the living room where a table is laid out.

Places are set with paper plates and party hats. A cake takes centre-field; iced, be-candled and decorated with cartoon bunnies. Happy Birthday Jenny. Another bunny crouches to one side; pink blancmange. Tiny triangular sandwiches, the crusts cut away, are piled on a plate. Bech picks one from the top and stuffs it whole into his mouth, chews then spits it out.

“Fucking tuna.”

He stands back, considering the room. Balloons in groups of three and four bulge from the ceiling corners; bird-blue, primrose-yellow and plastic-pony-pink highlights against wallpaper stained with age and damp, spotted with mildew.

A banner drapes over the fireplace. Jenny - Two Today!

Bech sucks in his cheeks, stares vacantly, his fingers moving, perhaps as though he is counting something. Then he scans the room again.

A small bureau sits against one wall, a drop-leaf top and a couple of drawers underneath. He opens it, riffling through papers; utility bills, local tax, a red payment demand, rent book.

He tries the top drawer…

Cheap jewellery, combs and budget cosmetics, knick-knacks…

A plastic wallet.

Inside…

Driving licence… Michelle Conners.

Marriage licence… Michelle Kimberley, Frank Conners…

Certificate of birth… Jennifer Conners… He checks the date, sucks in his cheeks, staring up to the ceiling… Looks down again at the document in his hand.

Then he tosses it, along with the wallet and everything that was in it, into the hearth. A quick search produces matches and newspaper. Screwing up balls of paper he shuffles them in too.

He sets a flame to the corner of a sheet of newsprint. It burns brightly, the kiss of gold and red eating a black edge into the marriage certificate. The plastic wallet blisters and drips, sending black smoke spiralling up the chimney. Some of the drips catch the paper, clinging and devouring.

Bech watches as words vanish, consumed in fire: Dated this 31st Day of October 19…

As the flames die, he reaches for the poker from a set of fire-irons, drawing it through the ashes, mixing them together. He stands, contemplates, then stoops again, taking the brush and the small shovel from the irons.

Two minutes later, upstairs in the bathroom, he watches black ashes whirl then vanish down to the drains.

With the air of a job well done, Bech brushes his hands together, then rinses them in the basin. Brushing damp palms on his thighs, he ambles out of the bathroom.

Two other doors: he takes the first.

Double bed…

Wardrobe…

Dresser...

All cheap flat-pack type furniture.

Wallpaper faded yellow with age. Bedding threadbare. Drapes thin and worn.

He slides open the top drawer of the dresser, pokes a finger through cotton panties and plain white bras.

Closing the drawer again, he exits then tries the second door.

A cot, the rails set high. A large pink rabbit sits beside a blue elephant. A mobile dangles from the ceiling, butterflies dancing over the pillows. Expensive-looking wallpaper…

Bech looks more closely, flipping open a pale cream curtain to let in the light.

No, not wallpaper. The walls are hand-painted. Cartoon figures dance around the room. Unicorns frolic with pixies and elves. Fairies flit between brightly colored flowers under trees and in meadows. To one side, sunshine beams from a smiley-faced sun. On the other, the sky deepens to a night blue studded with stars. An angel sits on the curve of a crescent moon, smiling down at the cot.

Bech stares, then shakes his head, blowing out his cheeks as he leaves the nursery and heads back downstairs.

Neighbors…

He checks in the mirror, finger-combing his hair back from his face, straightens his cap, then heads out.

At the front of the house, he looks right, then left.

A greasy-looking woman with hair in curlers steps out two doors along, a snot-covered brat at her feet, wearing a pink leotard and lace-and-wire fairy wings. She leans against her door, puffing smoke from a limp roll-up.

Bech strolls along, touches his cap. “Morning Ma’am. I’m looking for Mrs Conners. Would you know where I can find her?”

Suspicion glints in faded eyes. “What d’you want Mitch for? She’s dun nuffin. She’s okay.”

“I have a warrant for her. She skipped court, over two years ago now... in connection with drugs charges.”

“Drugs?” She puffs on the foul cigarette. “Nah, not Mitch. You got the wrong woman.”

“Be that as it may, Ma’am, she was due to appear in court. She didn’t and I need to talk to her.”

“I don’t know where she is. You could ask Frank.” She nods to the car parked close by. “Isn’t he in?”

“We will be asking Mr Conners, yes, at the station.”

“At the station?” Her eyes widen. “You’ve arrested Frank?”

“He is assisting the police in their enquiries, Ma’am. I can’t say more than that.” His eyes drop to the toddler at her feet. A green number eleven drips beneath her nose. “What a pretty little girl. What’s she called?”

“Ellie.”

Bech squats down. “Hello, Ellie.”

“’ello..”

He stands again, palms his cap back. “Ma’am, I’m not sure if we’re going to be able to bring charges against Mr Conners yet, but if you see him again, don’t leave Ellie alone with him… Know what I mean?”

The woman’s mouth opens. “But, Mitch… they’ve got a little girl themselves. She…”

“In my experience Ma’am, what the husband does, the wife knows… wouldn’t you say?”

She nods sharply, tosses the butt into the gutter then snatches up the child, bundling her inside. The door slams behind her.

Bech grunts and smirks.

That should sort that problem out….

Humming, he ambles away.

*****