Chapter 53

Day 14 – Patrick

Halfway to Kerry Mangan’s place, the address of which Gareth had sent them within minutes of talking to Carmella, Patrick noticed the petrol light flashing in his car, reminding him that he’d been meaning to fill up for the past two days. The dashboard informed him he had five miles left till the tank was empty. He banged the steering wheel with his fist. For fuck’s sake. Normally, this would have drawn a quip from Carmella, but she was as tense as he was; her knee bouncing up and down; swearing at the traffic; leaning out of the window at one point and aiming a stream of insults in her thickest Irish accent at a portly man who was blocking the road with his white van. She didn’t look quite so fresh anymore.

‘Which one of us will have a heart attack first, do you think?’ Patrick asked, as they turned into the street in Surbiton where Mangan lived.

Carmella didn’t reply. She was too busy gawping at the scene halfway down the street.

‘Who the hell’s that?’ she asked, unbuckling her seat belt as Patrick did something he’d never done before: bumper parking the car, shoving a tiny Fiat a foot forward so he could squeeze into a space.

A mixed-race teenager was hammering on the front door of a Victorian terraced house, before stepping back and yelling up at the first-floor window. ‘Jade! I know you’re in there with him, bae! Come out, you fucking slag, I love you.’

‘Police!’ Carmella shouted and the boy turned his stricken face towards them, his mouth dropping open. Tears streaked his spotty cheeks and his fists were red from where he’d been thumping the door.

Patrick ran towards the teenager and for a moment he thought the kid was going to do a runner, that they were going to have to chase him. But then he heard a window open above them and they all looked up.

A muscular man with cropped hair – Patrick remembered him from the reception area at Global Sounds – leaned out and called down, ‘Are you the police? You got here quick – I only just put the phone down.’

‘Are you Kerry Mangan?’ Patrick asked, but the man’s reply was drowned out by the boy screeching, ‘Where’s Jade? She’s in there with you, isn’t she? Jade! Come out! I love you!’

‘This little twat thinks I’ve got his bird in here.’ Mangan laughed.

We’ve got it wrong, Patrick thought with a lurch in his gut, peering up at the bodyguard, at the mixture of irritation and amusement on his face. Got it wrong again.

‘Shut up, you,’ he said to the boy, who was immediately cowed. He muttered something about Mangan being a ‘homewrecker’, then hung his head.

‘What’s your name?’ Patrick demanded. ‘And how do you know Jade?’

‘She’s my girlfriend,’ the boy said meekly.

‘And your name?’

‘Kai Topper.’

‘Is Jade Pilkington in there?’ Carmella asked, calling up to Mangan.

‘What, that OnTarget nut? You must be fucking kidding.’

‘He’s lying,’ Topper said.

‘Can you let us in?’ Patrick asked.

Mangan pointed at Kai Topper. ‘As long as you keep that dickhead away from me.’

Some bodyguard, Patrick thought. He turned to the teenager. ‘Kai, I think you need to cool down, all right? Let’s put you in the back of our car for a minute while we have a word with Mr Mangan.’

‘Are you arresting me? I ain’t done nothing!’

‘We just want you to cool down, OK? Come on . . .’

He escorted Topper along the road to the car, put him in the back seat and locked the doors so he couldn’t get out.

Kerry Mangan was waiting on his doorstep when Patrick got back to the house, talking to Carmella. Mangan was unshaven and wrapped in a navy towelling dressing gown, with bare feet. ‘I was in the bath when I suddenly heard someone banging on the door and yelling.’ He yawned. ‘Stupid prat. Why the hell does he think his bird would be here? Come in and see for yourself.’

They followed Mangan up a staircase and into his flat. He led them into the living room. It was all very tastefully decorated, if somewhat uninspired, framed prints from Ikea above furniture from the same store.

‘Mind if I take a look around?’ Patrick asked.

‘What, you really think she might be here?’

‘We just need to check.’

Mangan shrugged. ‘Fine. Whatever. But it’s a bit messy. Like I said, I just jumped out the bath. I’ve been asleep all day, had a late one last night.’

Patrick left Mangan with Carmella – he heard her start to make small talk about a framed photo of Mangan in Dublin – and went into the little kitchen first, then the bathroom. The bath was still filled with water and the choppy remains of bubbles. A plastic eye mask hung from the tap and a paperback novel lay face down on the toilet lid.

Next he checked the spare room, which was piled high with junk, before going into the bedroom. A double bed with a crumpled duvet, piles of clothes on the floor. He checked the wardrobes and under the bed, feeling foolish. As he was about to leave the room, he noticed a framed photo on the bedside table. Kerry Mangan and a good-looking tanned man, their cheeks pressed together, beaming at the camera.

‘Satisfied I’m not hiding any teenage girls?’ Mangan asked as Patrick re-entered the living room. The bodyguard was seated in an armchair, Carmella on the sofa opposite. Patrick took a seat beside her.

‘Jade Pilkington is missing,’ he said. ‘We’re extremely concerned about her well-being. Do you have any idea where she might be?’

‘Shit, you think . . . ? Like those other poor girls? Fuck.’ He pulled his dressing gown tightly around him. ‘I gave her a lift home from this party Mervyn had at his place last night. She said her boyfriend was doing her head in and asked me if I was heading back into town. I don’t normally give lifts to girls I don’t know, by the way. But the party got so wild towards the end, everyone was off their tits all of a sudden – not me, ’cos I was driving, obviously. I felt a bit worried about her, so I offered to drive her back. She’d already said she lived quite close to me.’

‘Did anything happen between you?’ Carmella asked.

Mangan laughed. ‘What, you mean, did I bring her back here and shag her? I don’t think my boyfriend would like that very much.’

‘Oh,’ said Carmella. Patrick couldn’t help but smile, and wished he’d had a chance to tell Carmella about the photo in the bedroom.

‘Is that why you were discharged from the army?’ Patrick asked.

Mangan’s expression darkened. ‘Yeah. They still did that in the nineties. I had to, like, hide it when I first joined up, but they found out, the fuckers. That’s one of the reasons Mervyn took me on . . . When I applied for the job at his company I told him the truth about why I was discharged and he was furious, said it was a disgrace.’

Something struck Patrick. Mervyn Hammond had never been married. He lived the life of a bachelor. ‘Is Mervyn gay too?’

‘Nah. I thought he was, at first. Thought he was in the closet, like a lot of blokes of his generation. But he doesn’t seem to be interested in men or women. He’s one of them asexuals. All he’s interested in is his business and his model railways.’

Patrick wanted to get back onto the subject of Jade, but there was something he needed to know first. ‘Kerry, why did you and Mervyn visit St Mary’s Children’s Home the other night?’

‘Hasn’t he told you? I guess he wouldn’t. He doesn’t like anyone to know about it. Very private, is Mervyn.’

Patrick nodded. This chimed with what Chloe Hedges’ mum had told them about his work helping kids with cancer.

‘He helps them with their fundraising. Plus he works with the kids, gives them inspirational talks about never letting themselves be handicapped by their background, their start in life. He tells them they can achieve anything if they put their minds to it. He’s great at that stuff. I’m always telling him he should go public, put his talents to wider use, but he won’t.’