Games with the Dead: A PC Donal Lynch Thriller

‘I won’t come in so.’

‘Ah, come on, Fintan, Matt would love to see you.’

‘I thought we had orders to address him only as Matthew. Anyway, I’m barred.’

‘You’re not barred.’

‘Zoe made it very clear she thinks I’m a … how did she put it again?’

‘A misogynistic menace. She didn’t mean it. She just worries that every time I go out with you, we end up on a bender.’

‘We end up on a bender because you’re so pussy-whipped. She said the hangovers make you an unfit father. How can you put up with that shite? You do more for that kid than she does.’

‘Come on, Fintan. Give her a break. She’s under a lot of pressure lately and she hasn’t been well,’ I say, then realise I’m trying to justify her affair to myself.

‘Damn right she’s not well. She’s a control freak. Every man needs to cut loose now and then. The day you roll over and let her control your social life, she’ll end up hating you for it. I’ve seen it happen, Donal. You need to man the fuck up.’

‘Why don’t you man the fuck up and knock the door?’

‘Listen, Donal, I’m dumping that silver concrete block on your doorstep. Then I’m off to watch the Americans fail to “get” soccer. My advice is: be ready, because I’ve sensational news.’

‘Not like you to sensationalise news, Fintan.’

‘Fine. If you don’t want to know what Julie Draper’s kidnapper is up to now, maybe you should stay in and watch Friends, like a proper dad.’

Ten minutes later, I find Fintan loitering on our front door step, awkwardly cradling the silver breeze-block so that it doesn’t touch his suit.

‘You should present this to Zoe,’ he smiles. ‘Tell her it’s your first down payment on that house of her dreams.’

‘Arsehole.’

‘Remind me again why I’ve been ferrying it around southern England since yesterday?’

‘I just have a feeling about it,’ I say, taking the block and placing it in the boot of my car. He’s still driving the flashy Porsche. ‘I see you figured out how to get the roof up.’

‘Not exactly. I took it to that grease monkey around the corner. He sorted it out for fifty quid.’

‘Fifty quid? That’s a miracle.’

‘Let’s hope the miracles continue, and it rains solidly for several months after I give it back to Jamie.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well let’s just say, when they fixed it, they didn’t bother too much with the electrics.’

He clocks my mounting horror and roars with laughter.

‘They welded it shut.’

‘Jesus, Fintan. Jamie will go apeshit.’

He throws his arms out in mock defence. ‘I didn’t know he’d set about it with a blowtorch. It kept raining!’

I get in to inspect. ‘He’s added lots of nasty-looking metal,’ I say. ‘It’s now like being in one of those shark cages. Poor Jamie.’

Fintan’s in fits now and takes several minutes to recover, giving me plenty of time to marvel at the crow-black cruelty of his humour.

I can’t wait any longer. ‘Commander Crossley hasn’t been in touch. No one’s been in touch. I presume that, as usual, you and your journo friends know more than me about what’s really going on. Has John West or Kipper resurfaced?’

‘Police got a typed note this morning, which they suspect is from him. He’s threatening to abduct and murder again, unless he gets another pay-off. Except this time, he’s going to target a child.’

‘Bloody hell. Is it definitely the same guy?’

‘Police think so. He explained in the note that Julie had to die because her mask slipped and she saw him.’

‘She did know him then?’

‘He said he couldn’t risk her being able to identify him afterwards. Police think all this proves is that he has form and she could’ve picked him out of a photo album of ex- offenders. They’re refusing to think anything except Kipper, Kipper, Kipper.’

‘But you think differently?’

Fintan pulls that pained face, which revs his brain to max. I’d better pay attention.

‘I think the kidnap of Julie Draper resembles the Fairclough case too much. It’s like whoever kidnapped her is desperate for police to make that connection and not look elsewhere.’

‘Maybe this Kipper character is taunting them. That’s not uncommon.’

‘Maybe, but I can’t help thinking Crossley and co. have bought the Kipper/John West thing too easily. They’re blinkered, which means they’re not keeping an open mind or delving properly into Julie’s personal life. If the kidnapper is someone else, he’s done a great job of hoodwinking the police. Again, it smacks of the kidnapper getting help from the inside, and you saw Crossley’s reaction when I said that. He knows there’s something else going on here, a bigger play.’

‘So, what now?’

‘What now is we’re doing your job for you, as usual. We’re getting stuck into Julie’s personal life, finding out who might have had a grudge against her or Crown Estates. I’ve got my ferret-like crime reporter Alex Pavlovic on it.’

‘Has he got a source in the Kidnap Unit?’

‘I don’t ask, Donal. Though sometimes he tells me about his antics, if he’s feeling especially proud of himself. So yesterday, Julie Draper’s mum is under armed guard in hospital. Doctors, nurses and cops won’t let anyone near her. Alex Pavlovic, aka The Prince of Blackness, sends her a massive bunch of flowers, hides a mobile phone in the stems with a note offering her £50k. She’s agreed to meet him today.’

Fintan parks up, slaps his fake ‘Doctor on Call’ sign against the windscreen.

‘You must lie awake at night, Fintan, worrying that he’s more devious, underhand and amoral than even you?’

‘And connected,’ he sighs, oblivious to my dig. ‘Ex-cops, private detectives, tech whizz-kids. He’s got this one fella, Gerry Woods, on side, who used to work for the spooky wing of the Met. This guy can place a secret camera in a cigarette lighter. Amazing. That’s how we’ve brought down all these cheating Tories.’

‘Isn’t secret filming and bugging illegal?’

‘Using the material gathered is illegal. We don’t use it. It’s just insurance.’

‘Insurance?’