Buried (DC Jack Warr #1) - Lynda La Plante Page 0,131

were one hundred bundles of fifty-pound notes. Jack picked up one of the bundles and, with bloodied fingers, leafed through it: fifty notes. Fifty notes per bundle, one hundred bundles; the bag contained a quarter of a million pounds.

Jack’s mobile rang. Unknown number. Jack slid on to the ground.

‘You OK?’ Angela Dunn sounded like she was right by his side. ‘He wasn’t meant to fight with you, just . . . I’m sorry. He’s called an ambulance, so they’ll be with you in a few minutes. He’s one of Julia’s misfits from years ago. He knows the darkness better than you, so you’ll not find him.’

Jack listened. He didn’t know what on earth to say.

‘If I’ve learnt anything at all over the past 24 years, Jack, it’s patience. Good things come to those who deserve it, and we deserve this.’

‘I know where you are . . . Anita Davidson,’ Jack managed.

Angela remained silent for what seemed like an age. When she spoke again, she wasn’t flustered, she was calm. Her words were exact, purposeful and brilliant.

‘It sounds like you have the power to take away all of the good we’ve managed to scrape together. I honestly can’t tell you how it all started, and I definitely can’t tell you how it’ll end. That’s up to you, it seems . . . This money is not a bribe, Jack, it’s a thank you. Thank you for taking the time to know us better than anyone, because knowing us is the only way this will turn out the way we want it to. We’re not bad people and we had nothing to do with Mike’s death. We’re just trying to do the best we can for those we love. You know what that’s like.’

‘Don’t talk about my family!’ Jack snapped.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Angela. ‘Whatever you decide to do, the money is yours to keep. I want to start living, Jack,’ she went on. She sounded so strong. ‘I’m sick of just getting by. I’m better than that. I’m more than that. We all are. I was born into a terrible life, but I’m damned if I’m going to die in it. I don’t know what else to say really, except . . . I hope you’re happy in the end. It gets easier once you’ve decided who you are . . . No, not who you are – who you need to be.’

In the distance, sirens began faintly and gradually grew louder.

‘I can hear help arriving,’ she said. ‘Take very good care, Jack, and if we ever do meet again, I hope it’s as friends.’

The second his mobile went dead, Jack dropped it onto the ground and struggled round onto his knees, desperately trying not to use his broken arm. He zipped the bag, stuffed it underneath the passenger seat, grimacing through the pain, and then he collapsed onto his back, panting for breath. He finally let go, and allowed himself the painless joy of passing out.

CHAPTER 39

Jack was in awe of the sheer number of cars bringing more and more mourners to Totnes Crematorium. Hundreds of people he’d never even met – from the building trade, from the pub, from Charlie’s Labour Club, from Penny’s bridge club. The driveway was a sea of slow-moving people and vehicles.

Maggie linked her arm through Jack’s plaster cast. His good arm was inside his newly dry-cleaned sergeant’s uniform and his broken arm was in a sling underneath it.

‘Remember when you said your dad wouldn’t be remembered by as many people as Harry Rawlins? I don’t think this lot would agree with you.’

Jack did recall saying it. He’d been looking at news articles from Harry’s funeral; half of London’s gangsters and half of London’s coppers stood shoulder to shoulder. It had been an impressive sight that he thought would never be matched by Charlie. But this was better. Because all of these mourners actually loved Charlie.

Ridley cut an impressive figure as he walked up the driveway in his black suit. Even though he was a good few inches shorter and narrower than Charlie’s tradesmen mates who surrounded him, he stood out as being a man to be reckoned with.

‘Condolences.’ He shook Jack’s hand. ‘The uniform looks good on you. Impressive turnout, your dad was clearly much loved.’

‘Thank you, sir. And thank you for stepping in. The arm’s not healing quick enough and Mum didn’t want strangers doing it.’

‘It’s an honour to be asked, Jack.’ Ridley kissed Maggie on the cheek. ‘It’s been a tough time for you both.’

Five strapping older men, probably in their sixties or