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From the stone seating outside the Museum of Liverpool at the Pier Head, Nicks watched a couple eating ice cream being dive-bombed by two seagulls. After days of the ‘Tourist Trail’ and Museums, he was just about full. His phone rang.
“Hi, Mum. How’s things?”
“Oh, it’s you, Christopher!” she exclaimed. “We thought you’d been kidnapped by pirates.”
“And why on earth would you think that, Mum?”
He knew what was coming next.
“Well, it’s been so long since we’ve seen you, or heard from you for that matter, anything could have happened. Why don’t you pop up for tea tonight? I’ve got some lovely lamb shanks in the oven on slow. It would be no trouble to pop another in there with them,” she ended hopefully.
“Firstly, Mum, I was there last week.” He looked at the date on his watch. “In fact, only five days ago. Secondly, I might have to work tonight. I’m expecting a call later so don’t put anything in for me. I’ll give you a call before nine, if I can make it, but I probably won’t be there.” He tilted the phone from his mouth as he sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Alright, love. I’ll pop the other lamb shank in, just in case, and if you can’t make it, I know someone who will have it for his supper. Oh! I almost forgot. Your father needs to talk to you about the two very nice Policemen who called for you this afternoon.” She made it sound as if they were two school friends calling to see if he could come out to play. Before he could ask her for more information, she was gone and he could hear her calling: “Frank, I’ve got our Chris on the phone!”
He waited, listening to the sound of his father approaching. He’d probably been in the garden.
“Hi, son. Everything OK?”
“Yeah, Dad. Couldn’t be better,” he lied. He could have been in Romania, with Anca. “What’s Mum on about two Policemen?”
“Oh, we had a visit from two detectives. They said you may have witnessed some incident in the city centre the other day and they needed to speak to you about it. Are you sure everything’s alright?” He couldn’t hide the genuine concern in his voice.
It didn’t go unnoticed on Nicks. “Yeah. It’s fine, Dad. Nothing for you to worry over. I know what it’s about. Did they leave a contact number at all?” He pulled the small notebook with its little pencil out of the leg pocket of his combat pants.
“I’ll just get the business card the older one gave me, hang on.” Frank put the phone down and Nicks could hear the semi-comedic conversation between his parents as they did their ‘where did we put it’ routine. Suddenly, the phone was picked up and Nicks began noting down the details he was being given. DCI Thurstan Baddeley. Why was he not surprised?
“Are you sure there isn’t anything wrong, son? It’s just that the younger one asked if he could use the toilet, so we let them in and your mother took him upstairs to show him where it is while I had the other one wait in the living room. I had to go and sort out your mum’s cup of tea in the kitchen, you know she doesn’t like it stewed, and I saw the older one through the hatch, using his phone to take a picture of that photo of you when you were in the Firearms Team. You know the one? It’s on the nest of tables in the corner. Then they asked about the neighbour, the one that died.”
Nicks forced a laugh. “Stop worrying, Dad. Even I can’t recognise myself from that photo.” He wanted to dispel any fears they had but had to ask, “What did they say about the neighbour?”
“They just said they knew about him, what he must have been like and it couldn’t have been nice living next door to him. Of course, I said it wasn’t. Then the older one, that’s the Baddeley chap, said it must have been very difficult for you, knowing we were having to put up with all his behaviour.”
“And what did you tell him, Dad?” Nicks took slow a sip of his vanilla latte.
“I said we’d never told you because it would have upset you. Was that the right thing to say?”
Nicks smiled. “Yeah, Dad. That was the right thing to say. Anything else?”
“Well, they tried to make it sound like inconsequential chat, but they asked about our cruise and if we’d enjoyed it, whether you had stayed whilst we were away and if you had been staying recently.”
“And you said... what?” Nicks lit a cigarette and blew out the smoke.
“I told them what you told us, you were working away, and in any case, you always stayed in hotels because you like your own space.” Frank paused as he accepted the cup of tea Anne had made him. Nicks heard him whisper “Thanks, love” then he continued: “They asked if we’d seen you recently or were likely to and where you lived, then, when they were leaving, the older chap asked what you did for a living. I said you lived somewhere in Berlin but we don’t know where because we do all the Christmas and birthday stuff by email and occasionally Skype and then I told him what you told us to say, that you were a freelance personal security consultant.” Frank sipped his tea. “Look, I know you can’t say what it is you’re up to, Official Secrets Act and everything, but are you in any trouble?”
“No, Dad,” Nicks laughed. “It’s much ado about nothing. I told you everything is fine. I’ll give them a ring and get it sorted. In the meantime, I might not be able to pop round again.”
There was silence, then: “You didn’t have anything to do with what happened to the bloke next door, did you, Chris? I mean, you paying for the cruise and then him dying while we were away. I know it was probably a coincidence, but I have to ask, son.”
Nicks laughed again. “You need to stop watching all those murder mysteries, Dad. He was responsible for what happened. He managed to do that all by himself. Just put it down to a happy coincidence, that’s all.”
“Ok, son. I’m glad.” Nicks could hear the relief in his Dad’s voice. “Try and give us a call before you have to go back though, for your Mum.”
“I will. And Dad, make sure you’re careful what you say on the landline. I just don’t want to compromise anything. The ‘powers that be’ wouldn’t be happy. Keep the mobile handy and I’ll call you. Enjoy your lamb shanks.”
“I’m sure I will, son. Speak to you soon.” Frank put the phone down. Anne was shouting for him from the garden, something about ‘that damned cat’.
Nicks finished his coffee leaving a mouthful of liquid in the bottom, thoughtfully toying with the container. He took another drag of his cigarette, dropped it in the cup and discarded it in the nearby waste bin.
He’d been right to have a bad feeling about Mr Baddeley.