“Yeah, that kind of thing.” I wondered if I should make her forget my visit, but Sharon reappeared.

  “We’re done here, but we’ll be back,” she said to the brunette. “And when prince charming there wakes up tell him his mate Billy Porter is a goner.”

  We walked down the road away from the car.

  “Don’t know who the girlfriend is,” said Sharon. “She’s new.”

  “Where next?” I asked.

  “Michael Vickers, lives on Morris Road,” said Sharon. “User, thief, and small-time dealer. Supposed to have got clean, but he was buying regularly from the late Billy so he’s worth a look. What I really want is where he’s shifting the gear he’s nicked to pay for it.”

  Michael Vickers was thin, sallow-complexioned with crude tattoos on his forearms; I wondered if he realised how much he looked like the stereotypical junkie. He tried to close the door when he realised who had been hammering on it, but Sharon was too quick for him.

  “Evening, Michael,” she said. “Just came by for a chat about a mutual friend. Not gonna make us stand outside, are you?”

  “I got nothing to say to you,” he protested as Sharon shoved her way in. I followed a couple of steps behind. It smelled worse than Jay’s place.

  “Now you know that’s not true, Michael,” said Sharon. “To start with there’s Billy Porter to talk about.”

  “Who’s that Mikey?” A female voice called from upstairs.

  “Police,” called Sharon.

  “Stay up there, Tracy,” called Mike.

  Tracy immediately came downstairs. She was a very young-looking washed-out blonde with a pierced nose and the same crude tattoos as Michael, and clearly pregnant.

  “Detective Sergeant Wickens, Hampshire Police.” Sharon waved her warrant card at Tracy.

  “He ain’t done nothing,” said Tracy.

  “Then he’s got nothing to worry about,” said Sharon. “And I’m sure he can explain all about Billy Porter. Can’t you, Michael?”

  “I got nothing to say,” said Michael. “You got a warrant?”

  “I haven’t,” said Sharon. “But I can get one because we know all about the gear you’ve been buying from Billy. Do you want me to go away and get one then come back with the first team and take this place apart?” Her gaze switched to Tracey. “And have a word with Social Services about Tracey and her baby?”

  Michael said nothing.

  “Didn’t think so,” said Sharon. “Let’s all sit down and talk about it, shall we?”

  She pushed open the door to the sitting room and Michael reluctantly followed her in. He sat down in a grubby-looking armchair, Tracy sat on the arm beside him.

  Sharon remained standing. “So tell me about the gear you’ve been buying from Billy Porter.”

  “I don’t know no Billy Porter,” said Michael.

  “Come on, Michael, you can do better than that,” said Sharon. “We’ve got Billy’s records. We know who’s been buying off him.”

  Michael stayed silent and looked at his feet, his hands shaking a bit. Tracy beside him looked as if she might burst into tears at any moment. I felt sorry for her; she had made a really bad choice in Michael Vickers and now she was stuck.

  “Got an answer for me, Michael?” said Sharon.

  “Don’t know nuthin about ‘im.”

  “Really?” said Sharon. “Well, here’s what’s going to happen. Rather than listen to your lies my friend here is going to hold your hand and you’re going to let him.”

  Michael looked up at me, incomprehension in his gaze. Rather than explain I just grabbed his hand and dived in. I didn’t have to search to find his thoughts about Billy, they were right at the front of his mind. I absorbed all I needed then decided I would try a little experiment. I constructed a compulsion that any time Michael handled heroin he would see a vision of the grim reaper coming to claim him. That, I thought, should give him a serious incentive to get clean and give Tracy and her baby a better chance. I sealed the compulsion into place and withdrew.

  “Alright, Charlie?” asked Sharon.

  I nodded.

  “Right, we’re out of here,” said Sharon. “By the way. Billy Porter’s dead so you won’t be getting any more gear from him.”

  She turned and walked out leaving Michael and Tracy staring. I followed her.

  “Watcha got?” asked Sharon once we were back in the car.

  “There an Asian guy down Bevois Valley that buys the phones and laptops. Told him the phones go out to Africa. Doesn’t get much for them.”

  “Right,” said Sharon, pencil poised. “Got an address?”

  “I have. We should head down there now. Michael had a bag of nicked phones right there in the room. First thing he’s going to do is offload them, he could hardly think of anything else.”

  “No wonder he looked so twitchy. You should’ve told me, but it’ll work out better this way. Let’s get going.”

  Less than ten minutes later we were parked up across the road from a takeaway chicken shop that I recognised from Michael’s memories and undergraduate pub crawls.

  “Our guy has the flat above the shop,” I said. “Buys in nicked stuff and ships the phones up to London, sells the tablets and laptops on the net.”

  “Exactly the sort of scumbag I want to put out of business.”

  Michael Vickers turned up about ten minutes later, walking fast with a backpack over his skinny shoulder. He went straight to the door beside the chicken shop and rang the bell. The door was answered, and he went inside. Sharon took a series of pictures on her phone and caught him again when he came out five minutes later, the empty backpack flapping in his hand. He hurried off back the way he’d come; I wondered whether he was heading back to Tracy or to find another dealer.

  “Bingo,” Sharon said looking at the pictures she’d taken. “Need to write this up tonight to get a warrant first thing tomorrow. Just have to hope he doesn’t move the stuff on overnight. Might well owe you dinner tomorrow night.”

  “We could wait it out, see if he moves.”

  “No. I’ll chance it. We know where he is anyway.”

  She started the car and sped us back to her flat where she disappeared into her room, presumably to write up her report. I exchanged a few texts with Michelle then went to bed, content with my days’ work.

  * * *

  Sharon was gone next morning before I got up. I didn’t even hear her leave so it must have been before seven. The fridge was, as usual, almost empty. I wondered whether I should shop on the way home or whether I would get my dinner out; probably best to shop, I thought based on Sharon’s previous. I used the last of the milk for my cereal then went to catch the bus up to the university campus.

  I was expecting to get a text from Sharon sometime during the day to tell me whether the raid had found the phones. What I wasn’t expecting was a call from Michelle just after lunch.

  “He’s found me,” she said, her voice a tight whisper. “His van’s outside the cottage.”

  I didn’t need to ask who she was referring to.

  “Where are you?” Fear gripped my stomach. I knew she’d been due to work an early shift this morning. “Did he see you?”

  “No. I’m in my car. I spotted his van from down the lane, and I turned off.”

  “When’s mother due home?”

  “Not for hours, she’s doing a long day.”

  “Stay where you are. I’ll call you back.”

  I thought about the situation for a moment, my initial fear quickly turning into anger. It would take me an hour and a half minimum to get out there so that was not an option however much I wanted to. Who else was there? I pictured the lane and imagined where Dave had parked his van, then thought of Mrs. Godfrey. I’d bet he was parked outside her cottage. She had lived there all my life and more, so I knew her, not as well as mother who fed her cats when she went away to visit her sister, but well enough. The old phone directory in the lab yielded her number so I called her.

  She answered after three rings. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Godfrey, its Charlie Somes. I was just wondering if there’s a scruffy white transit van parked outside your house.”

  “Yes, there is. I was wondering whose it was. How did you know?”

  “My new girlfriend told me. She’s been staying with mother and she’s afraid the driver is someone from her past she wants to stay away from.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “She’d like to keep away from him, so could you call the police and ask them to move him on. I think they’ll pay more attention to you than to me.”

  “Well yes. If you think I should.”

  “I think you should. It would be a great help. Thank you, Mrs. Godfrey.”

  I called Michelle back, told her what I’d done and advised her to go to the Langley Tavern and have a leisurely coffee before venturing back. I went back to running my column nursing my anger. It was time to deal with Dave; we’d been lucky he hadn’t caught Michelle; sooner or later that luck would run out. He had clearly lost all rationality, and I didn’t want to think about what he might be capable of. The idea of a compulsion that made him remember rejecting Michelle as a complete slut was still the best I’d got, so I have to go with that.

  I was still thinking about how to deal with Dave when my phone bleeped with an incoming text. It read “Dinner at Roberto’s tonight” followed by a smiley. An hour ago, I would have been delighted, but now it seemed rather insignificant. Still, I’d earned it, and it would be churlish to refuse so I texted back “Result! I expected nothing less.”

  My phone bleeped again a few minutes later. I was expecting it to be a reply from Sharon, but it was from Michelle. Dave had gone and she was in the cottage with the kettle on; the knot in my stomach untied itself.

  My product took a lot longer to elute off the column than I had expected so I was late getting out of the lab; at least there had been no sign of Dave lurking. Sharon was already showered and dressed up when I got to the flat and was halfway down a large gin and tonic.

  “Good result today, Charlie,” she said, raising her glass. “No one had any idea that guy was there until we came along and cleaned him up. The boss is very happy, and the DCI came by specially to say well done.”

  That made me feel very good. I had a quick shower and changed into the best clothes I had with me.

  “Thought we’d walk down and get a taxi back,” said Sharon. “Then we can have a drink or two. I’m going in late tomorrow.”

  I suspected it would be more than two, not that I minded.

  It was a good evening for walking with clear skies and a light breeze. Sharon filled me in as we walked on a lot of details about the day’s arrest and what the search had found.

  “Got some good leads on where he was shipping the phones to,” she said. “But we’ll have to pass those on to the Met, and they’ll probably lose them.”

  Roberto’s was packed with a queue at the door; just as well Sharon had booked. We started off with a cocktail each then hit the red wine along with the starters. I went with meat all the way, a plate of prosciutto followed by Florentine steak. Sharon had the deep-fried Calamari followed by wild mushroom risotto.

  “So how’s it working out with Michelle living with your mum?” Sharon asked as we waited for our main courses.

  “Seems fine. She gets on well with mother and likes working in the care home. We have still got a Dave problem, though.”

  “How so?”

  “He started turning up at the Chemistry department and hanging around outside the main entrance. That’s not really too much of a problem ‘cos there’s several other exits. But today he turned up at the cottage. Michelle spotted his van parked in the lane on her way back from work and managed to avoid him. I called a neighbour who got the local police to move him on, but next time we mightn’t be so lucky.”

  “Wonder how he found it?”

  I had wondered that, too. “Somes is not a common surname, and mother’s in the phone book. I’m still on the electoral roll there, too. Even trolls can use the internet.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “I need to get him on his own so I can put a compulsion on him. Can’t do that with his mates around.”

  “Will that be strong enough?”

  “I hope so. You’re still off the fags, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. But that’s something I wanted to do.”

  “Peter Murphy was able to turn Mike Scott into a bent copper with little or no training against his will and keep him that way.”

  “Ok. So how are you going to get him on his own? Have Michelle tell him she wants to talk to him and set it up that way?”

  “That’s one way, but how do I stop him beating the shit out of me as soon as he sees me?”

  “That’s a problem you face whichever way you do it. Would it help if I came along?”

  “Yes, it would.” I’d been hoping she would say that. I’m all for solving my own problems, but not at the risk of sustaining the sort of damage an angry Dave could do me. The waiter arrived with the main courses at that point, and we discovered the bottle of red was already empty, so we ordered another.

  That bottle, too, was dead, and we were contemplating liqueurs when Mike Scott turned up. I wasn’t expecting him, but Sharon clearly wasn’t surprised. More drinks were ordered, and I realised I would not be making an early start in the lab tomorrow. I did get from him that he was seeing the Assistant Chief Constable next week about the plan to take down Peter Murphy. I wished him the best of luck in getting the plan approved and assured him I was up for it. After that I played gooseberry as he and Sharon gossiped about colleagues, flirted, and generally behaved like I wasn’t there. We ended up being the last customers in left in the restaurant, and I’m glad I wasn’t picking up the bill.

  I sat up front in the taxi and tried to avoid noticing what was going on behind me; good thing it was only a short trip. Mike and Sharon disappeared off to her room as soon as the taxi was paid for, so I drank a large glass of water and went to bed. The room was only spinning slightly.

  The water did not save me from a hangover. Even though I was late up, there was no sign of Sharon or Mike. I made coffee but couldn’t face eating anything beyond ibuprofen then dragged myself to the lab when I really felt like going back to bed. I struggled through the morning doing nothing very effective, skipped lunch, and dozed in the visiting speaker’s seminar; just as well Prof was away in the US at a conference.

  I was starting to feel better when Prof sent an e-mail round the group setting up a review meeting on Saturday midday as he’d missed the usual slot. This meant I wouldn’t get out to see Michelle until nearly Saturday evening and pissed me off no end. There was no getting around it, though, so I texted her to let her know with a promise to call her later.

  I left the lab as soon as I was decently able and went back to Sharon’s. There was no sign of her and only eggs in the fridge so, finally hungry, I cooked myself an omelette, then talked to Michelle and went to bed. I was already asleep when I got a text from Chloe inviting me out for a drink.

  Prof’s Saturday meeting went on a long time but was really interesting as he talked about new chemistry that had been presented at the conference. Some of it was directly applicable to my project so, despite being desperate to get out, I had to pay attention and talk sensibly about how we could use it when it was my turn to discuss my work.

  It was five o’clock before I got the bus to Langley. I sat at the back and sent texts to Michelle, mother, and then to Sharon to let them know I was on my way. I settled back in my seat and tried to put my thoughts in order; behind the buzz of excitement about seeing Michelle lay the anxiety that I had no real plan for dealing with Dave. I felt sure the compulsion would work if I could get hold of him; but how do that without him beating the living daylights out of me I didn’t know. I didn’t think Sharon being there would stop him. I hoped Michelle or mother had some idea.

  Michelle met me at the bus stop, and I stopped thinking about Dave until much later, until after a very fine dinner of beef stroganoff actually.

  “So how are we going to deal with Dave?” asked mother, a glass of red wine in her hand. “I certainly don’t want him coming round here again, and Michelle needs him out of her life.”

  “I need him out of my life, too.” To their surprise I had declined wine and held a glass of fizzy water. “I need to surprise him and get close enough to him to grab him before he wallops me, but it has got to be somewhere with no people around so that I’ve got time to put a compulsion on him.”

  “Some kind of an ambush then?” said mother.

  “That makes sense,” said Michelle. “‘Cos the moment he sees you he’s going to explode.”

  “So what are the options?” asked mother. “You know his routine.”

  Michelle thought for a moment. “He’ll be working tonight and get back to his flat really late, like four or five in the morning. He’ll sleep until midday, go down the pub for Sunday lunch then go to the gym. There’s about a fifty-fifty chance he’ll be working Sunday night.”

  “What about while he’s asleep?” said mother. “Do you have a key to his flat?”

  “I haven’t got a key, and he shares the place with two mates.”

  “At the gym then.”

  I remembered how busy that was. “Have to be in the carpark either when he arrives, or when he’s leaving.”

  “Still gonna be people around,” said Michelle.

  “Unless you’re inside his van,” said mother.

  “How would I get in? Do you have a key?” I asked Michelle, wondering if Sharon might know how to get into a van quickly and quietly. I had texted her to ask if she was around but had received no reply. I suspected Mike Scott was occupying all her time.

  “No. But you might not need one,” said Michelle. “If he hasn’t got the lock fixed then the back doors will be open. It got broken into a few months back and he was too cheap to get a new lock.”

  “That’s fortunate,” said mother. “You don’t think he’ll have got it fixed?”

  “No,” said Michelle. “That van’s shot anyway. Won’t make it through another MOT, so he isn’t going to spend money on it now.”

 

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