Page 46 of The Impossible Fortune (Thursday Murder Club Mysteries #5)

People make such a fuss. It is tiring. All Connie Johnson asks is to be allowed to live her own life. The police want to catch her – she understands that, it’s what they get paid for. Competitors want to undercut her, to steal her market share, to kill her – again, no complaints, it’s business.

It’s just this sort of thing that Connie can’t understand. You ask a simple favour, and this is the response you get.

‘But why does she need to be hidden?’ Ibrahim asks. ‘That’s the only thing I can’t quite compute.’

‘She just does,’ says Connie. ‘For once in your life don’t ask questions.’

Ibrahim turns to Tia. ‘Why do you need to be hidden?’

Tia looks at Connie, who shakes her head.

It’s the perfect place. Who would think to look for a teenage girl who held up a warehouse at gunpoint in the flat of an eighty-year-old psychiatrist?

No one, that’s who. Connie was proud of it as an idea, and thought Ibrahim would be glad to help. That it might make him feel useful.

‘Ibrahim,’ says Connie, ‘have I ever asked anything of you?’

‘Yes,’ says Ibrahim. ‘Many times.’

‘Okay, anything illegal?’ says Connie.

‘Again, yes,’ says Ibrahim. ‘So this is illegal?’

‘It’s quite illegal,’ says Connie. ‘But I’m sure it’s fine.’

‘Connie,’ says Ibrahim, ‘I’m going to say to you what Captain Lee said to Eddie on Below Deck . “We have a bond of trust. We trust each other to tell the truth.”’

Ibrahim WhatsApps her about Below Deck a lot now.

‘The last time we spoke,’ says Ibrahim, ‘Tia was settling into a cleaning job, and you were giving her tips and advice. It was a very proud moment for me. Now you have arrived at Coopers Chase at some speed, and Tia has a number of small cuts to her face. I conclude that since I saw you both last, something untoward has happened, and, much as I would like to help, if you don’t tell me exactly what that is, I shall have to ask you both to leave. ’

‘We should leave,’ says Tia to Connie. ‘This isn’t fair on Ibrahim.’

‘Ibrahim can look after himself,’ says Connie.

Why is everyone ganging up on her? This should be so simple.

Drop Tia off, pick her up again in a few days when one of her police contacts has let her know what’s going on, and in the meantime Ibrahim and Tia can have a fine old time watching TV, or solving murders, or whatever Ibrahim does when she’s not around.

Connie is no great expert on what other people do when she’s not around.

‘Tia,’ says Ibrahim, ‘you are more than welcome to stay. But Connie has mentioned the word “hidden” and I am simply doing my due diligence. Did you have a fight at work? With one of the other cleaners perhaps?’

‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ says Connie, ‘show Ibrahim your gun.’

Tia flashes Connie an ‘Are you sure?’ look.

‘He’s seen more guns than me in the last couple of years,’ says Connie.

Tia pulls the gun from her cleaning overalls and puts it on one of Ibrahim’s coffee tables. Ibrahim slides a place mat underneath it.

‘Tia robbed a warehouse today,’ says Connie.

‘That was her new job. She pointed a gun at the driver and two security guards, then tied them up and drove the vehicle out of an industrial estate with half a million pounds’ worth of Rolexes in the back.

A remote security protocol disabled the vehicle, and she had to shoot her way out and run, leaving the watches behind.

Her accomplice was picked up by the police, whereas Tia, because she has a responsible mentor , was picked up by me and driven to a place of safety, which is here, to stay with someone I trust, which is you. ’

Ibrahim and Tia look at each other. Tia looks apologetic. Ibrahim gestures to a chair, and she sits. He turns to Connie.

‘Excuse me?’

Connie senses she is in trouble, and doesn’t much like it.

She doesn’t get in trouble very much these days, and can usually shoot or talk her way out of it.

Sure, she’s just been in prison for the best part of a year, but being in prison isn’t the same as being in trouble.

It’s an admin issue. Ibrahim looks cross.

‘It was her idea,’ says Connie. ‘I encouraged her, the way you told me to. I helped – I passed on the benefit of my wisdom.’

‘You let her plan an armed robbery?’ says Ibrahim.

‘When you say it like that, it sounds bad,’ says Connie. ‘But it was actually a good idea.’

‘So good you’ve brought her round to my home to escape the police?’

‘Plans sometimes go wrong,’ says Connie. ‘I told Tia that too.’

‘She did tell me that,’ says Tia. At least someone is sticking up for Connie. Tia robs a warehouse, Ibrahim refuses to hide her, but it’s Connie who’s the bad girl? Everything’s tied up in knots. It’s like an upside-down world.

‘Were you going to share in the proceeds?’ Ibrahim asks her. She knows she’s not supposed to say yes, but of course she was going to share in the proceeds. What sort of a question is that?

‘It hadn’t been discussed,’ says Connie.

‘You let an eighteen-year-old girl, who still carries a school satchel, rob a warehouse with a gun?’ says Ibrahim.

‘You should have seen her in prison,’ says Connie. ‘She really fitted in.’

‘I imagine she was terrified,’ says Ibrahim. ‘After all the work we’ve done. After all the chaos of your own life? You chose to continue the cycle? To turn Tia into you?’

‘I didn’t know who else to turn her into,’ says Connie. ‘I’m the only example I’ve got.’

Ibrahim shakes his head. ‘No, no. Not true. You’re not stupid. You understand the world better than most. I think you just liked the power.’

‘Ibrahim,’ says Connie. But she doesn’t know where to go next. He’s not cross any more; he’s something else. But what? She tilts her head towards him, and really studies him.

‘I’m sad, Connie,’ says Ibrahim. ‘You’ve made me sad. Feel free to shoot your way out of that particular problem if you wish.’

‘How do I …’ Connie is at a loss. ‘I don’t want to make you sad. With me. How do I make you not sad?’

‘You could say sorry,’ says Ibrahim. ‘But not until you feel sorry.’

‘I’m sorry,’ says Connie. And she is. So this is what being sorry feels like. Ibrahim told her she would find out one day, and she hadn’t believed him. She hopes it doesn’t last long.

‘Not to me,’ says Ibrahim. ‘To Tia. While you still can.’

‘No, it’s okay,’ says Tia. ‘Honestly.’

Connie turns to Tia. She didn’t do a bad job, all in all.

Smuggling two guns past security isn’t easy.

She should have known about the lorry, but she didn’t panic.

She’ll get away with it too. And next time she’ll know better.

The first time Connie sold drugs to a stranger, the boy ran off without paying, and Connie took a beating from her boss.

She never made the same mistake again. She made other mistakes, sure, that’s how you learn, but you should never make the same mistake twice.

A case in point is that that first boss tried to hand out another beating a few months later, and Connie left him in hospital with bullets in both legs.

The moral being, learn from your mistakes.

Everything Connie had become could be traced back to that first mistake, how she responded.

‘What happened’ is never what defines you in life; ‘What you did next’ is what defines you.

And what Tia does next will define her. If she can brush herself down, this one job will be the beginning of a long and lucrative career.

A fine life of crime and everything that comes with it.

It’s all in Tia’s grasp. That could be her future, and who wouldn’t want that as a future?

Connie looks at Tia, curling up on Ibrahim’s armchair.

She thinks of herself at the same age. Back when it all began.

Ibrahim puts his hand on Tia’s arm. They could be grandad and granddaughter, the two of them. What does that make her?

‘I’m sorry, Tia,’ says Connie.

Tia looks at her, then looks at Ibrahim. Tia looks scared for some reason. Ibrahim walks over and puts an arm around Connie’s shoulders. He looks scared too. Why do they both look scared?

Connie hears an unfamiliar noise and realizes she is crying.

‘We will hide her,’ says Ibrahim. ‘And then we will help her.’

Connie would like that. Would like to do something good. It might stop her crying.