Page 81 of Copper Script
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
AARON STARED AT THEwalls of his flat.He couldn’t seem to make himself do anything else, because his life had fallen apart around him and all he could do was brace himself for the coming blows.
The meeting with DDI Colthorne had been dreadful.It was truly terrifying to have a man lie to your face when you both knew he was lying, but he didn’t care that you knew because you had no power to object.Colthorne had listed Aaron’s supposed acts of misconduct with a little, cruel smile, enjoying every second of his discomfort.I can crush you, was the message,and I will.
As indeed he could, if Joel had caved.
Aaron knew that was possible: sometimes there was simply no choice.He didn’t really expect Joel to stand up to Darby Sabini if the man made it a matter of physical threat, or to DDI Colthorne if the prospect of another prosecution for a longer sentence was on the table.He wouldn’t expect that of anyone.
He hoped Joel was all right, for the sake of what they’d had and what might have been.He very much hoped the man took his message of trust as he intended it: a statement in principle, not a rebuke if he’d faltered.
Or maybe Joel hadn’t caved, and Colthorne was lying, but even then, Aaron didn’t see there was any way out for himself.He hadn’t found any sort of proof against Colthorne to back up his suspicions—except the accusation that Joel had made to Sabini, but he didn’t want to find himself in a situation where he and Colthorne exchanged accusations.He knew who’d lose.
And, in truth, he wasn’t sure he could face the fight.He knew all too well how it would go.He had involved himself in private affairs in his official capacity; he had brought an obvious charlatan into a police investigation; he had spent a lot of his free time with Joel, with all that implied.It could be so easily twisted into a web of corruption and villainy, and the mud Colthorne threw would stick.Sergeant Hollis was noticeably avoiding Aaron, which indicated where he thought his bread was buttered.
The sensible thing to do would be to sign the resignation, take the private shame to avoid the public humiliation and then find something to do with the rest of his life.
He didn’t want that, or at least, not like this.A reckoning with his profession was probably long overdue, but he wanted it to be on his terms.He didn’t want to leave as a tainted man; his reputation mattered to him.And mostly, he did not want to see Colthorne carry on his merry way, unchecked and unpunished.That could not stand.He just had no idea how to prevent it.
So he stared at the walls, feeling them close in around him, feeling his neck muscles cramp, feeling his options narrowing and his life with it, until there was a knock at the door.
He answered for lack of better ideas, and was faced with a boy who shoved an envelope into his hand.It was a telegram, and it read SHAFIS NOW DONT BE FOLLOWED.
***
IT WAS ONLY MID AFTERNOON.Aaron knocked at the restaurant door, and was quickly admitted by Rahim Mohammed.It felt extremely cloak and dagger.
“Your friends are here, Mr.Fowler,” Rahim said.“Let me bring you a drink.”
Joel and Challice were seated at a table laden with nibbles and snacks for a small army.Aaron stared blankly at them.“Challice?What are you both doing here?I told you—”
“Shut up, sit down, look at this,” Joel said, his voice quivering with excitement.“Look.”
Aaron took the paper he held out.He recognised the handwriting very well indeed.
I, John Colthorne, promise to pay Thaddeus Knight the sum of four thousand four hundred pounds...
“What the,” he managed.“What.”
“It’s his note of hand,” Challice said.She was vibrating almost as visibly as Joel.“The DDI owed Knight a fortune as of the third of March 1917.Knight was murdered on the fifth.And Mr.Colthorne claimed that they only knew each other casually and played for small sums.Four thousand four hundred pounds isn’tcasual.”
It was something like ten years of a DI’s salary.Aaron passed his hand over his face and felt the tremor.“If Colthorne didn’t declare that as an interest—he can’t have, he’d have been treated as a suspect—”
“So he killed Knight, framed up Sammy Beech, and lied through his teeth so your lot let him lead the investigation,” Joel said.“Sees Beech hang and sits back feeling safe—”
“Until Marks comes up with this.Where did he find it?Wait: where didyoufind it?”
“Marks’s landlady, Mrs.Trotter,” Joel said smugly.“I did her a couple of readings and said rude things about the police, after which she ate out of my hand.Marks gave her the file and notebooks for safe keeping about a fortnight before his death, with strict instructions not to trust the police.She was supposed to post them to Beech’s family in Canada if anything happened to him, but he hadn’t passed on the address.She was just holding on to them, so we had a nice talk, and she agreed to give them to me.”
“Joel,” Aaron said helplessly.
Joel grinned at him, ochre eyes crinkling with glee.“Thank Helen.It was her idea to go back to the landlady.”
“Joint effort,” Challice said.She and Joel both had tin cups of lassi: they clinked them together.“Although we mostly owe this to Gerald Marks.Knight had left a briefcase in the lost property at Paddington, would you believe?Apparently Marks found out earlier this year that he sometimes did that as an alternative to a safety deposit box, and spent God knows how long going through every lost property in London.And, if you need any more, his latest notebook says he tapped Colthorne for two hundred pounds.That was eight days before he died.”
“We’ve got him.”Aaron couldn’t quite believe it.“We’vegothim.”
