Taking Liberties (Liberty Chapman) Read online

  ‘You’ve reached the mobile of Officer Amira Hassani. Please leave a message after the tone.’

  Sol hung up. He’d already left at least three. Didn’t anyone teach these rookies to check their phones regularly? Hassani sounded young on her voicemail message but that was no excuse for ignoring basic procedures.

  He checked Hassani’s card again. Underneath her number was the name and address of the nick where she was stationed. Fine. If the mountain wouldn’t come to Muhammad . . .

  Hyde Road nick was a twenty-minute drive from Carter Street and had bugger-all parking close by. There was a decent-sized car park for the officers who worked at the station but Sol didn’t have the code to punch in at the automated gate. Instead, he had to go round in circles until someone outside an estate agent’s finally moved. By the time he had bought a ticket from a machine on the other side of the road – the nearest one was broken – he was in a seriously foul mood. Hassani had better have a damn good reason for not returning his calls.

  When he got to Reception and was told she was in court, he could have kicked himself for not calling the nick rather than hightailing it over there. Who was the rookie here?

  Back outside the nick, a gaggle of young lads were smoking. Sol reached for his e-cig, but was in the nearest newsagent buying a pack of twenty and a lighter before he could say Benson & Hedges. The smoke scratched as it went down, and his throat closed in protest. Sol carried on smoking anyway. He liked smoking. He wished he didn’t but he did. He liked it in the same way that he liked black coffee and fry-ups and Jack Daniel’s and difficult women. In fact he liked those things more than most others. The only thing that really came close was catching criminals. He laughed at himself. He knew it was the nicotine talking, as it crossed through the thin membranes in his body to his blood system and was transported at breakneck speed into each and every cell in his body.

  When the fag was finished, he ground the butt under his heel, jumped into his car and set off for the Black Cherry.

  ‘Seriously?’ Mel bared her teeth at Sol. ‘You think you can just come in here and demand to see Jay?’

  ‘I think he’ll want to talk to me,’ said Sol.

  ‘I doubt that.’

  ‘Tell him it’s about Kyla Anderson.’ Sol took a seat at the bar. ‘That girl who never worked here.’

  Mel stared at him, the feel of her eyes like two razors ripping his skin. But in the end she stalked across the club to the back office.

  Without a word, or even looking up, Len pushed an opened bottle of beer in front of Sol. He raised it to the man and took a warm mouthful.

  Five minutes later, Jay Greenwood sauntered from his office to the bar. He was a big bloke. Tanned and handsome. Always well turned out, if a bit flash.

  ‘I know you’re busy, Mr Greenwood,’ said Sol.

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Kyla Anderson.’ Sol let the poor girl’s name hang in the air. ‘She sometimes went as Kiki. Ring any bells?’

  Greenwood shrugged.

  ‘She worked here for a while,’ said Sol.

  ‘You’d need to check with Mel,’ said Greenwood. ‘I don’t keep a track of the girls.’

  Clever. He hadn’t denied she’d ever worked there. Palmed it all off on good old Mel.

  ‘This one was a bit different from the others,’ said Sol. ‘Lovely-looking for a start. Bit of a handful.’

  Greenwood chuckled. ‘Aren’t they all?’

  Sol chuckled back and took another swig of beer. ‘Unfortunately, she took a real pasting from a punter, ended up in hospital. We’re looking at attempted murder. Worse, if she doesn’t pull through.’

  ‘Well, it didn’t happen here, if that’s what you think.’ Green-wood glared. ‘We don’t let anyone touch the girls. They’re safe in the Cherry, which is why they like working for me.’

  Sol had spent a lot of his working life weighing people up, channelling out their noise, winkling out the truth. Something about Greenwood’s demeanour told Sol he was telling the truth. Or, at least, what Jay Greenwood believed to be the truth.

  ‘So why did you visit Kyla in hospital?’ he asked.

  Greenwood shook his head with a soft laugh. ‘I didn’t.’

  Now that was a lie. Even without Hassani’s say-so, Sol could read the dishonesty on the other man’s face. ‘Last Tuesday. You were seen.’

  ‘I think you need to go back to whoever said they saw me and buy them some glasses.’

  ‘And I think you need to do better than that, Mr Greenwood. I’ve got witnesses who say you knew Kyla pretty well. And I’ve got witnesses who can place you at the hospital.’ Sol finished his drink and slid the empty bottle back towards Len. ‘From where I’m standing that puts you right in the middle of things.’

  ‘If you had anything concrete I’d already be under arrest.’

  Sol stood to leave. ‘There’s time, Mr Greenwood. I’m a patient man. Obviously, I’ll need to speak to the other family members.’

  ‘Good luck trying to see Crystal without a warrant.’

  Sol walked away. ‘Crystal won’t play ball, but Rebecca might be a bit more amenable, don’t you think?’

  Raj took a seat next to Liberty. ‘By the look on your face, I take it things are going well.’

  Liberty smiled. ‘Bucky’s agreed to bail while they track down the witness. She’s putting something in writing now for Mr Acosta.’

  ‘Round one to the new kid on the block.’

  ‘I’d never have got this far without you,’ she told him. ‘I’m still not sure why you’ve been helping me out.’

  ‘I can understand more than most what it feels like to be out of the loop,’ he said.

  ‘Let me take you to lunch,’ she said. ‘As a thank-you. It’s a beautiful day – we could find somewhere to sit outside.’

  Raj placed his hands on his belly and jiggled the flab. ‘I’m not a man to turn down free food.’

  Liberty’s mobile rang. It was Jay. She mouthed, ‘Excuse me,’ to Raj and stepped away.

  ‘Listen, Lib.’ The old nickname made her heart flutter. A bird’s wing against the cage of her ribs. ‘I’ll get straight to the point.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I need a favour,’ he said.

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘The police want to talk to me about something that happened last Tuesday,’ said Jay. ‘I need you to tell them we went to lunch at Jade Garden.’

  ‘Well, we did,’ answered Liberty.

  There was a pause.

  ‘Jay?’ Liberty prompted.

  ‘I need you to say we stayed there until after four.’

  ‘I’m a solicitor, Jay,’ Liberty hissed.

  ‘I know, I know, but just hear me out. The police – you know how they are, they get an idea and they won’t let up. They’re saying I’m involved in something.’

  Liberty pictured her brother shoving sweet and sour into his mouth. A phone call. A hasty retreat. ‘And are you?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘So why did you leave the restaurant?’

  Jay let out a long sigh. ‘Promise you won’t hate me?’

  Liberty laughed. He was asking her to give a false alibi, yet he was more worried that something else would make her judge him.

  ‘I went to see a bird.’ His voice lost all its bluster. ‘Not the missus.’

  ‘So get her to talk to the police.’

  ‘I can’t. She’s not in a position to help me out,’ he said. ‘In the meantime the police are threatening to talk to Becca about it.’

  ‘Why would they talk to your wife?’

  Jay’s laugh was bitter. ‘To cause me as much aggro as possible. Oh, they’re looking for ways to bring me down, don’t you worry about that. As far as they’re concerned, I’m still that little scrote in care, got ideas above my station and due a very big fall.’

  Liberty didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Stupid thing is, it’s over between me and this woman,’ said Jay. ‘I only went to se
e her because I felt bad and she’s not well. Will you at least think about it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she replied.

  ‘It’s a big ask. But I’m really struggling here, Lib.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll think about it,’ she said. She hung up as her biggest fan made her way over. ‘Officer Hassani.’

  Behind Hassani was a man. Tall, over six foot, and well built. Hair just the wrong side of scruffy, but only just. ‘Miss Chapman,’ said Hassani, face like thunder. ‘This is DI Connolly.’

  Liberty got to her feet and shook the man’s hand. Unlike Hassani he took it in one smooth motion, grip firm but not tight, looking Liberty squarely in the eye from behind his choppy fringe. Totally in control. Had he come to kick up a fuss about bail? Surely he couldn’t overrule Bucky. ‘I’m afraid Miss Buckman is already drafting the paperwork.’ said Liberty.

  Connolly waved a hand as if that was of no concern. There was a small pink scar in the shape of a half-moon that began at the knuckle of his little finger.

  ‘My client will hand over his passport and sign in at the local police station,’ she added.

  Connolly looked amused. ‘I’m sure that will be very nice for him.’

  Liberty narrowed her eyes. If he had something to say about bail, he needed to say it, not play stupid games. And she would fight him. He need make no mistake about that. No doubt he was used to getting his own way. He was wrong if he thought that would happen today. A deal had been struck with Bucky and the deal would stay.

  ‘I understand that you had lunch with Jay Greenwood on Tuesday,’ said Connolly, taking out his card and handing it to her.

  Liberty felt the air escape through her lips. This had nothing to do with bail or Rance.

  ‘At the Jade Garden restaurant?’ Connolly asked.

  Liberty nodded and checked the card.

  ‘Can I ask how long you were there?’ he asked.

  She swallowed hard. She had told Jay she needed some time to think about this. What the hell was he playing at? ‘We arrived at around one,’ she said.

  Connolly smiled with one half of his mouth. ‘And what time did you leave?’

  Liberty’s head was swimming. She was a solicitor. She couldn’t lie to the police. ‘I don’t think I know the exact time,’ she answered.

  ‘Ballpark,’ said Connolly. ‘Two, three, four, five?’

  Liberty touched her top lip. It felt slick. She couldn’t lie. Of course she couldn’t lie.

  ‘It’s a simple question,’ said Connolly.

  But it wasn’t simple. Not at all. Nothing about coming back here and seeing Jay again was simple. Nausea welled from the pit of her stomach to her throat. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Liberty. ‘Do you mind if I sit down?’

  Hassani jutted out her chin. ‘I think you need to answer DI Connolly.’

  Liberty ignored her and stepped back, flopping into one of the metal seats. Suddenly she was transported back to another time when she had sat outside a courtroom waiting to see if they were going to send Jay away to a young offenders’ institution for nicking a van from outside the post office. Short sharp shock. As if he hadn’t had enough fucking sharp shocks in his short life.

  ‘Miss Chapman.’ Hassani’s voice was cold. ‘If you don’t want to talk to us here, we can continue at the station.’

  Liberty looked at her. So young, yet so full of anger. Convinced she knew the truth about Liberty and Jay, when even Liberty and Jay didn’t understand it. And Connolly. Enjoying himself. Enjoying the game. She heard her own voice, not even realizing she was going to speak. ‘I was with Mr Greenwood until after four o’clock.’

  Chapter 8

  September 1985

  I’m so knackered I feel like I’d fall over if I got off the end of the hospital bed. Mam’s faffing around, packing her stuff into a holdall I brought with me, fussing about whether she should put her slippers at the bottom of the bag or on top of her clothes. I watch her and scratch my scalp. The itching’s getting worse. Last night I felt like cutting all my hair off.

  ‘Pack it in, Lib,’ says Mam. ‘You’ll have it turning bad-ways.’

  I don’t show her the yellow scab I’ve picked off.

  ‘Now, shall I wear this?’ She holds up a white blouse with puffed sleeves. ‘Or this?’ She waves a stretchy black top covered with sequins.

  ‘Is that new?’ I ask her.

  She shrugs. ‘Your dad brought it for me yesterday.’ She chooses the white blouse, tucking the new top away with her slippers.

  I wipe the scab on the edge of the bed sheet. ‘You need to do what you said.’

  ‘Oh, aye?’

  It’s all right for her. She’s been holed up in here. Three nice meals a day. Safe.

  ‘Getting somebody to scare him off,’ I say. ‘You need to do it as soon as you’re back.’

  Mam snaps up her head. ‘Why? Has he been laying his hands on the kids?’

  I don’t answer. He hasn’t. Only because I make sure they don’t wind him up. But I can’t stop that happening for ever. Eventually one of them will do something that pisses him off, or he’ll wake up feeling that way out.

  ‘I’m off to put my face on.’ Mam grabs her makeup bag. ‘Check I’ve got everything, will you, Lib?’

  She totters away and leaves me to it. The curtains are still pulled around the bed. It’s like being in a tent. The air’s all hot and still, the sounds outside a bit muffled. I lay my head down and close my eyes.

  ‘Elizabeth?’

  I jerk upright and see a head peeking through the join in the curtains. It’s the nurse from that morning when Mam was brought in. The one who put Frankie on her knee.

  ‘You all right, love?’ she asks.

  ‘Tired,’ I say.

  She comes inside, letting the curtains shut behind her so we’re alone, in our own little world. She pours some water from the jug on the bedside cabinet and hands it to me. I take a drink but it’s warm. ‘Your mum had a lucky escape,’ she says. ‘She could have died.’

  She’s got a mole on her chin with a whisker growing out of it. I didn’t notice that before.

  ‘If someone did that to her . . .’

  ‘She fell down the stairs,’ I say.

  ‘Let me finish, love, and then I’ll get out of your hair.’ She takes the plastic cup from me and sets it down. ‘If someone did that to your mum they need to be punished for it. They need to be put away somewhere where they can’t hurt anyone else. How old are you? Eleven?’ I nod. ‘Too young to have that sort of responsibility sitting on your shoulders.’

  I look down at the floor and the nurse’s shoes. They’re black lace-ups, a bit like a pair I’ve had my eye on for school in Freeman Hardy & Willis. They look like they’d be comfy.

  ‘Elizabeth?’ The nurse says. ‘Do you hear what I’m telling you?’

  ‘She fell down the stairs,’ I reply.

  * * *

  Liberty made her excuses to Raj about lunch. He was obviously disappointed but didn’t make a fuss. ‘Trouble at mill?’ he wondered.

  ‘Don’t ask,’ she replied. And he didn’t, which made her like him all the more.

  By the time she got back to the hotel, she felt an uncontrollable urge to throw up and hadn’t managed to close her door behind her when a torrent of bile came out of her mouth. She tried to catch it in her hand as she raced to the bathroom and flung herself to the floor at the base of the toilet. She heaved five or six times until she was purged, then let herself fall sideways into the side of the bath, her cheek against the cool porcelain of the lip.

  She couldn’t quite believe what she’d done. She, who weighed, measured and analysed every aspect of her life. She, who never acted on her gut. She, whom the assistants at work called the Ice Queen. She, who didn’t mind the nickname one bit. Why the hell had she lied to the police? What had she been thinking?

  There was a green slimy patch down the front of her white shirt. Disgusting. She ripped at the buttons, clawed it off and slung it over her head into th
e tub. Then she sat in her skirt and bra and tried to control her jagged breathing.

  At last, when the pounding in her ears had subsided, Liberty pulled herself to her feet and leaned against the washbasin. Her reflection in the mirror on the wall confirmed that she looked every bit as crap as she felt. Plus there was also a green mark on her bra where the bile must have soaked through. She unhooked it and threw it on top of the shirt. She’d send them to be cleaned by Housekeeping. Nah. Screw that. She’d chuck them. Buy new.

  She turned on the cold tap, let it run, then put her lips to it, taking a mouthful and spitting. Rinse and repeat. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and staggered into the bedroom, flopping backwards onto the bed, arms out as if she’d been crucified.

  She had no responsibility to look out for Jay. Not now. She never had, or at least she shouldn’t have. What she’d done all those years before, well, there’d been no choice. Now there was a choice. She’d just made the wrong one. She’d allowed her feelings – old feelings – to overrule logic. But she could put things right. She could tell Connolly she’d made a mistake. She rolled over onto her stomach and leaned into her handbag, searching for his card. There it was. DI Sol Connolly. Vice Squad.

  Liberty pulled out her mobile. She was going to have to play this very cool indeed. Make like she’d made a simple error, apologize, but not too profusely. Hang up. She punched the numbers into the phone. It rang once, then went to voicemail. Damn. Should she leave a message? Or would that make her look guilty? She hung up. Better to speak directly to Connolly.

  It was cool in the room, with the air-conditioning set to low. Liberty scooted under the covers and put her cheek on the pillow, but as she closed her eyes, the silence was pierced by the loud brr of the hotel phone. She snaked out her hand and answered. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Lib, it’s Jay.’ Oh, God. ‘I just wanted to say thank you.’ She should tell him right now that she wasn’t going through with the lie. ‘You’ve saved my bacon.’ He laughed but Liberty couldn’t join in. ‘Listen, I’m having everyone round for dinner tonight. You should come.’