Free Beyond Reach by Graham Hurley Page B

Harbour on the other. The old lock gates were still recognisable, a stone’s throw away down the harbourside path, and further sections had been planned to take barges beyond Arundel to London. In the event, the spread of the railways had doomed canals nationwide but the Bargemaster’s House remained, a souvenir from this extraordinary era, and Faraday felt eternally privileged to live in it. It connected him to something bigger than himself. It gave him a perspective untainted by the small disappointments of everyday life. And it was some consolation to know that Gabrielle had felt this too.
    Before he finally turned in, Faraday stood at the bedroom window, gazing out at the blackness of the harbour, trying to picture the laden barges riding at anchor, waiting for dawn. Then he became aware of his own reflection in the glass: the bearded face, the greying hair, the hint of sag in his chest and belly. He managed a shrug, acknowledging the slow drip-drip of time, then turned to his PC, hearing the ping of an incoming email.
    The message was tagged ‘Urgent’. It had come from Jimmy Suttle. He clicked on the email and rubbed his eyes. Suttle was replying to his earlier enquiry about the red VW. I remember a red camper van , he’d written. It belonged to Jeanette Morrissey.
     
    Winter sat in the Renault at the side of the road. Detective Chief Inspector Perry Madison had once been second in command on the Major Crime Team. The last time Winter had seen him was a couple of years ago. Now Madison sat behind the steering wheel, stripping the foil from another wafer of gum.
    ‘It’s true, then?’ he said. ‘About you and Mackenzie?’
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘And you sleep easy with that? No regrets?’
    ‘Not one.’
    ‘Nothing you miss?’
    ‘Fuck all.’
    ‘ Nothing? Not the blokes? Not the crack? Not jumping on the bad guys?’
    ‘I don’t miss any of it.’ Winter shook his head. ‘At the end they fucked me over. I get a sweeter deal from Mackenzie than I ever got from any of you lot.’
    ‘I don’t doubt it.’
    ‘I’m not talking money; I’m talking support, back-up. I enjoy going to work, believe it or not. And that’s something I’d given up on.’
    Madison nodded, staring out into the darkness of the New Forest. He’d never been good at listening and nothing had changed since. He took what he wanted from every conversation and forgot about the rest. Winter had never met anyone so punchy, so totally dedicated to his own self-advancement.
    ‘And you’re telling me this is work?’ Madison gestured at the distance between them. ‘You’re Stu Norcliffe’s private eye?’
    ‘Mackenzie’s. There’s a difference.’
    ‘Yeah? Like how?’
    ‘Mackenzie means it. She’s his daughter. Norcliffe will kill you, believe me. But Mackenzie will do it slower.’
    ‘That’s bollocks.’ Winter caught Madison’s soft laugh. ‘Esme’s a grown-up. She’s making a choice here. Mackenzie doesn’t own her. Neither does her husband.’
    ‘Meaning?’
    ‘Meaning you ought to be talking to her, not me.’
    ‘Maybe I have.’
    Madison glanced across. For the first time Winter had caught his attention.
    ‘Bullshit,’ he said. ‘I’d know.’
    ‘You think she couldn’t disguise it? Play you along? You think she’s too thick for that?’
    ‘I know when a woman’s lying. Esme doesn’t lie.’
    Winter held his gaze a moment, then looked away. The thought that a woman having an affair never lied was a joke, but Madison was way too thick to spot the irony. Winter could smell the spearmint on his breath. He’s driving home, he thought. He’s going back to the missus with his stage yawns and his complaints about the pressure at work. I’m fucked, sweetheart, he’d announce. Too right.
    ‘Are you in love with her?’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Ezzie.’
    ‘That’s none of your business.’
    ‘Wrong, my friend. That’s exactly what it is. In case you’re wondering, I need to know.’
    ‘And why might that