Post Mortem, Gary Bell [best fiction novels .txt] 📗

to court, particularly those coming into London from women’s remand prisons. Charli was being held in the closest one to Snaresbrook, which was a two-hour drive away, and they would’ve had to have set off early to beat the city traffic. I held my thumb against the intercom’s buzzer at the cells and, after about thirty seconds, a lady finally asked if she could help.

‘Solicitor and counsel to see Charli Meadows,’ I answered, and we were let into the airlock system, with the door behind us locking before another opened ahead.

Charli’s expression was blank when we walked into the room. Her response to my request was very simple.

‘I’m not giving evidence today.’

‘Charli,’ Lydia said patiently, ‘if you don’t give evidence then there’ll be no explanation or denial. You’ll almost certainly be convicted.’

‘I don’t care,’ Charli responded quietly, gazing off into nothing. ‘I just want it over.’

‘It wouldn’t take very long,’ I tried softly. ‘All I’d ask you was whether or not you knew the drugs were in the car, to confirm that you had a dog, and that you replied “no comment” following Lydia’s advice after she feared for your mental fitness at the time.’

‘And what about the prosecutor?’ Charli asked. ‘Will he be so quick?’

I sighed. ‘No. ‘I don’t imagine that he will be.’

‘Why can’t you do it, Lydia? You can explain the interview and you met Biggie.’

‘I’m not sure it would be appropriate for me to give evidence,’ Lydia grumbled, then rolled her eyes to me, clearly hoping that I’d press Charli a little further. ‘What do you think, Elliot?’

‘Oh, I think you’d be all right.’ I smiled. ‘We’d only deal with those two issues and you’d be out of the box in ten minutes, I all but guarantee it.’

Lydia’s eyes widened and then narrowed, as she fumed. ‘Fine,’ she said impatiently, ‘but the court might have to wait for me. I have another client in Court 8 for a PCMH at ten thirty. He’s coming here from Pentonville and I’m not going to rush him.’

‘The court will be happy to wait, I’m sure.’

‘Fantastic,’ Lydia snapped. ‘Thank you very much, Elliot.’

With that, the conference was over. As she had another client to see, Lydia remained down in the cell area, while I went off to the public canteen to see Zara.

‘She’s going to do it,’ I said.

‘Who? Meadows?’

‘Lydia.’

‘Ouch.’ Zara sipped at her cup of tea, fighting a sly grin. ‘How’d that go?’

‘I need another smoke. That’s how that went.’

‘Ever the charmer.’

Back outside on the steps, I checked the time.

‘How long?’ Zara asked.

‘Fifteen minutes.’

‘You ready?’

‘I don’t think so.’ I was staring out across the grounds, smoking slowly, delaying the inevitable. The last of the morning’s cars were filing through the great gates on the opposite side of the lawn. Most of the vehicles crawled up the driveway in the direction of the courthouse, merged onto the massive turning circle in front of us, and then broke off for the parking area behind the building. Others used the turning circle to drop off all manner of lawmakers and lawbreakers at the bottom of the steps. ‘Something that still puzzles me,’ I said, ‘is why Deacon was killed.’

Zara shrugged. ‘Maybe he was falling for Meadows. ‘Maybe he didn’t want her to be sent down for the frame-up, assuming she was framed. Maybe he was skimming off the top, like those blokes in Margate.’

‘Maybe,’ I agreed around my cigarette. ‘Perhaps he was never supposed to give an Argentino to the woman already charged with smuggling drugs. Maybe he fucked up in a way we’ll never understand as long as we … Zara? What’s wrong?’

Zara was staring ahead as if she’d seen a ghost walking across the expansive grounds. I followed her gaze, confused, and what I saw brought the same impossible, spectral dread crawling across my flesh.

There, coming to a stop in the centre of the turning circle, was a pristine white Audi RS8, registration DM1.

The cigarette I’d been smoking dropped from my mouth.

The passenger door opened and out stepped Delroy Meadows. He leaned down, gave a grateful thumbs up through the window, and then the car was on its way, passing a parked black Volvo estate that looked oddly familiar.

‘I knew it!’ Zara wheezed.

‘Delroy Meadows,’ I said. ‘All this time. Delroy fucking Meadows.’

It took him another thirty seconds to walk the distance towards us, after which he smiled; there was worry in his eyes. ‘Morning, Rook. I hope today is going to –’

‘That car,’ I said. ‘I thought that car belonged to Deacon Walker.’

‘What?’ He glanced over one shoulder to the car now disappearing back out of the gates. ‘The Audi? You must be joking. As if Deacon could’ve afforded that.’

‘I saw him driving it,’ I said. ‘He used to drive to your sister’s in it!’

Delroy frowned. ‘That car? Why the hell would Deacon Walker be driving around in that? Sorry, but you’ve got your wires crossed there, mate.’

‘Whose is it?’ Zara asked, apparently trying and failing not to sound too frantic. ‘Who just dropped you off?’

‘Danny,’ Delroy said warily. ‘I did a couple of hours at the garage, so Danny said he’d drop me off.’

‘Danny?’ I choked.

‘Yeah, you know? Danny! The Pinball Wizard …’

‘Your mechanic?’

‘Right. Why? What’s up?’

I pointed a shaking finger towards the gate, even though the car was long gone. ‘That car … That car was –’

‘It was a beautiful ride,’ Zara interjected with a strained smile. ‘I have two questions of my own. How much do you pay your mechanics? And, do you need a new one?’

This relaxed Delroy into a smile, and he buried his hands into his pockets. ‘I couldn’t afford to pay anybody that much, that’s for sure. Not with all these court fees. No, that was a gift from his old man, I think. Spoiled little brat.’

‘His father.’ I swallowed, catching Zara’s eye. ‘I’ll bet that number plate cost him a few quid. The two of you share the same initials.’

‘Yeah, only mine isn’t quite as exotic as his.’

‘No?’ Zara giggled unnervingly. ‘Why,