Good Bait (DCI Karen Shields #1)(57)

At the foot of the stairs they exchanged smiles and went their separate ways, Karen fast-dialling Mike Ramsden as she did so, setting up a meeting of their own, how to proceed from here.





35


Not quite able to settle, alert for sounds of an approaching car, strange voices, a vehicle turning into the lane, they had fallen, nevertheless, into something approaching a routine. Letitia was the more listless, the more likely to lapse into moods of depression, alleviated by her son’s almost omnipresent good humour.

Kiley had made contact with Anton’s brother, Taras, as requested; driven up from London and met him at an Ibis hotel, off the M6 north of Preston. Phoned Cordon to report.

Anton was under a lot of pressure, Taras had told him, seeking to explain his brother’s behaviour. Business, it does not always run well. He chose not to elaborate. And on top of that, this thing with Letitia and his son … much as he liked Letitia, Taras said, she was in the wrong. Taking a man’s son away from him, his flesh and blood.

Taras had gripped Kiley’s arm. ‘In our country, in Ukraine, it is most important bond. Family. Father and son. Holy, you understand? Here, in England, perhaps is different. But for us, for Anton … And what did she think, Letitia? She could run, hide forever? And you, you know where she is. Her and the boy.’

Kiley had shaken his head.

‘You must.’

‘Not exactly.’

‘This man with her …’

‘A man with her?’

‘This man, he is her lover?’

‘No.’

‘You are sure of this?’

Kiley nodded.

‘Then why?’

‘A friend.’

‘A fool.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘You know where they are,’ Taras said again.

‘She wants to be certain nothing will happen to her,’ Kiley said. ‘If she returns. Her or the boy. She wants to know that Anton will sit down with her and talk, talk reasonably.’

‘Of course.’

‘A lawyer should be involved.’

‘No lawyers. He does not like lawyers.’

‘An accommodation needs to be reached. Equal access to the child.’

‘Equal, no. He will never agree. Danya is his son.’

‘Equal access and a financial arrangement of some kind, to look after the boy. The exact details can be sorted later.’

Over and over, Taras was shaking his head.

‘I was told you were a reasonable man,’ Kiley said. ‘A good man. Someone who could be trusted to do the right thing.’

Taras flexed the fingers of both hands, the knuckles cracking, one after another. ‘I will speak with him. My brother. Do what I can. I will let you know.’

‘Thank you.’

‘But no promise.’

‘I understand.’

‘What d’you think?’ Cordon had asked Kiley, once the conversation had been relayed.

‘My best guess?’

‘Of course.’

‘My guess would be, sooner or later Anton will come round. Pretend to, at least. Agree to terms, and then, when he’s got them in his sights, renege on the whole thing. Till then, I’d keep a weather eye.’

‘You’re a pal, Jack.’

‘Just wait till you get my bill.’

Cordon took it as a joke; hoped against hope that it was. All too aware that Kiley had already gone the extra mile and beyond. Loyalties stretched close to breaking point, he shouldn’t wonder.

‘As soon as Taras gets back to me,’ Kiley said, ‘I’ll let you know.’

They were still waiting.

In the kitchen, next to Letitia, Cordon was Heston Blumenthal and Nigel Slater rolled into one. ‘Cordon Bleu again, eh?’ Letitia had joked, on her way from bathroom to bedroom through the kitchen. The towel she was holding wrapped around her slipped just a little as she turned away.

Cordon used a fork to turn the sausages in the pan, where they were cooking with onions, a couple of bay leaves and a scattering of fennel. The potatoes were simmering, ready to be mashed with milk and butter. He poured a splash of red wine in with the sausages, another into the gravy that was thickening in a small saucepan to one side.

‘You’d make someone a lovely husband,’ Letitia said, coming back into the room. ‘Anyone ever tell you that?’

‘Not recently.’

She picked up his glass and sampled the wine. Made an approving face and poured some generously into a glass of her own.

‘You could tell Danny dinner’s nearly ready,’ Cordon said. ‘Drag him away from the TV.’

Some forty-five minutes later, plates that had been full were close to empty; even Danny had made short work of two fat sausages and a good dollop of mash soaked in gravy. Only the onions had been pushed to the side of his plate and left.

‘Now tell me there’s apple pie,’ Letitia said.

‘Afraid not.’

‘Anything?’

‘Pears. Cheese.’

‘What kind of cheese?’

‘Goat’s.’

She put two fingers in her mouth and mimed throwing up and, laughing at this, Danny had a coughing fit that reduced him to tears.

Cordon did the washing-up and Letitia, having run a bath for Danny, dried.