The DCI Yorke Series 2: Books 4-6 Kindle Edition (DCI Yorke Boxsets)

by Wes Markin

  ‘Should I be worried?’

  ‘I don’t know. Should you?’

  ‘Well, when a convicted murderer reveals my personal details to me, it’s hard not to feel some concern.’

  ‘But look where I am.’ Firth held out his arms. ‘What threat am I to you?’

  Yorke glanced at the guard reading a newspaper. More than you probably realise.

  ‘Do you know what that drugged-up wanker, Stirling, did to my son?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘And you condemn me for killing him?’

  ‘I’m not here to offer my views one way or another, Mr Firth, the courts did that. And it was your lifestyle following the murder which concerns me most.’

  ‘Do you really think I had a choice in that?’

  Yorke shrugged.

  ‘I cared for and supported my family, Michael. That’s all I ever wanted, and all I ever did. There’s still money for them, if they ever need it. Not that they’ll accept it. I’ve been trying for years. She’s a feisty one that daughter of mine. She still blames me for that accident. I know she does. I don’t blame her, but she needs to know I’m here for her. As long as she knows that, I’m happy.’

  Yorke put his pen against the notepad. ‘A Category B prison for someone who has committed two murders is unusual …’

  ‘I’ve been the model of good behaviour, Michael. I’m not the person you have me pegged down as. They transferred me when they knew I wasn’t a danger. My life in the gang is long gone; the warden lets me run the prison library for pity’s sake! When you haven’t got family, reading is your everything … and I can tell you that Herbert feels the same.’

  Yorke’s eyes widened. ‘Good. Let’s talk more about Herbert.’

  ‘Okay,’ Firth said. ‘Because he’s my friend, and because of the savagery committed by my old employers, I’m all yours.’

  In describing how he made Wheelhouse’s acquaintance back in the early eighties, Firth revealed a lot of his own connections to the Young family, long before they swelled into the goliath Young Properties. None of this outdated intel was relevant or interesting. Something Yorke was glad of. The connection between Wheelhouse and Firth seemed, at least on the surface, out-dated and irrelevant to the recent execution of Janice Edwards.

  ‘We were good friends. Drinking buddies if you will. Similar ages, similar mindsets, similar interests.’

  ‘Did you know he used children to sell drugs?’ Yorke said.

  ‘That was the only thing that we didn’t see eye-to-eye on …’

  ‘A pretty big thing though, wouldn’t you agree?’

  Questioning his integrity was the conversation killer to end all conversation killers. Firth quickly brought the interview forward to the present day.

  ‘When I was transferred here … as a model prisoner I might add—’

  ‘You already added that before.’

  ‘Yes, well. I arrived here in 2012 and there he was in the library. It must have been over twenty-five bloody years since I’d seen him! A friendly face. Much better than I was used to back in the last prison.’

  ‘The prison where you actually belonged?’

  ‘Your tone is getting harsher, Michael.’

  The conversation turned to the relationship between the two elderly men. Yorke steadily made notes. There was still nothing to suggest that there was any connection beyond reading and catching up on old times. Yorke could feel himself starting to calm. ‘Did you know his niece, Janice?’

  ‘No, although he talked about her a lot … still does, of course.’

  ‘Didn’t you meet her when she visited him here?’

  ‘You already know that I don’t have visitors. The television is always free around that time, so I always make a beeline for that. Prefer to read to be honest, but it’s nice to give the old brain a break every now and—’

  ‘Has Herbert explained to you why Janice has been murdered? Or at least why he thinks she has been murdered?’

  ‘Of course he has. Not that it takes a genius to work it all out. I know the same people he does, or at least did. There has been a lot of change, mind you. While I was part of it, it was all rather small fry; there was far less insulation as Herbert likes to call it. The way he describes it now makes it sound like a frigging empire rather than a couple of down-and-outs trying to make ends meet.’

  ‘You were never down-and-outs,’ Yorke said.

  Firth smiled. ‘Some of us weren’t. You put the yards in back then, the rewards were great. From what Herbert has been saying, people these days are being handed it on a silver platter. It’s becoming like the aristocracy – you must be born into it! I did hear Buddy Young was back on the scene since they put his son Simon in the ground. Now, there was someone who put in the yards … but a yard with that man isn’t good for your health.’ He laughed. ‘That’s one man you never want to cross. He’d take pieces off you for it.’

  Yorke tapped his notepad. ‘So, you’ve no connection to Herbert, and this tragedy, other than friendship?’

  ‘I’ve been a shoulder to cry on. Literally. The man’s been an emotional wreck. It’s not easy sharing a cell with him at the moment—’

  ‘Sorry… you’re cellmates?’

  ‘Yes, for over a year.’

  Yorke felt his heart beating faster. Stay calm … it means little … he’s out of the game … he has no direct connection to this murder …

  ‘Mr Firth, you—’

  ‘For pity’s sake, like me or loathe me, please just call me Doug.’

  ‘Okay, Doug. You say that it is obvious what happened to Janice, could you tell me what you mean by that?’

  ‘Herbert already told you. Don’t fear the Reaper. Back in the day, when we used to catch-up, there was a small group of us that used to drink together regularly. He’d have that song on the jukebox two or three times a night! Wasn’t long before he earned the nickname Reaper. To be fair, it’s the most inappropriate name. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

  It’s a good job Jake isn’t here, Yorke thought, he’d be wielding his stool in Firth’s direction right now.

  ‘And the others in the group?’ Yorke said. ‘Who are they, and where are they?’

  ‘They’re all dead.’

  ‘Nice,’ Yorke said. ‘Good job really, wouldn’t want them on our radar …’

  ‘Seriously, they’ve all passed.’

  ‘Even if it may weed out Janice’s killer …’

  ‘I’m not lying to you, Michael. Besides, everyone in that group loved Herbert like a brother.’

  ‘Romantic … however, doesn’t it stand to reason that they’re connected? They knew the nickname. The nickname has been used to antagonise Herbert.’

  ‘Everyone knew that nickname. And like I said before, insulation was not as thick back then, bosses would’ve talked to him, and they would’ve used that name.’

  ‘Who were the bosses?’

  ‘They’re gone too, Michael. Seriously. People change like the weather in this game. There is one boss that remains though … the top one. He would’ve known his nickname, and he’d every reason to put a hit out on someone Herbert loved.’

  Yorke sighed. ‘Let me guess. Buddy Young.’

  ‘Yep. And good luck with that one. If you can get through his wall of lawyers to talk to him, you’ll get nothing. He’s a seasoned pro. I’m surprised he’s back at it. Before this, I’d heard he was on his last legs and bedridden.’

  ‘He must’ve recovered.’

  Firth shrugged and smiled. ‘Bet he has a relapse when you want to talk to him.’

  Yorke chewed his lip and looked from Firth’s smiling face to the guard. He’d finished his newspaper and had his eyes closed.

  He sighed again and looked back at Firth ‘For someone who loves the Reaper like a brother, Doug, you’re not that open.’

  ‘I’ll give you anything relevant, Michael, but I’m afraid I know very little.’

  Well, at least I can tell Madden that you aren’t involved.
>
  ‘How about the money?’ Yorke said. ‘What has Herbert done with it all?’

  ‘Didn’t he tell you?’ Firth said. ‘Gone. All of it.’

  ‘Come on,’ Yorke said. ‘Really? Hundreds of grand.’

  Firth shrugged.

  ‘And you. Your money?’

  ‘Same. Spent … enjoyed … what can I say?’

  ‘Did you skim?’

  ‘Answering questions like that might get a relative killed. Being that we share family, do you really want to go down that avenue, Michael?’

  ‘You’re not taking this seriously, are you, Doug?’

  ‘Try losing your freedom, your entire family, and then try being a serious man. It’s difficult.’

  ‘I don’t believe it’s all gone, Doug, and I’m prepared to check.’

  ‘Obviously, I’ve some left. Some. For a rainy day, a pension maybe, if I ever get out.’

  ‘And where is it?’

  ‘With my accountant. A good man. He takes care of my financial affairs. He will show you if you see him, but like I said, there’s nothing to get excited about. When I die, you and Patricia might get to pay off your mortgage, but that’s about it really.’

  ‘And Herbert, surely he squirrelled something away for a rainy day?’

  Firth nodded. ‘I guess I might as well tell you, you’ll find out sooner or later anyway, and it’s no biggie.’

  Yorke’s heart started to beat fast again. Was this it? Was this the connection that compromised everything?

  Firth said, ‘We share the same accountant.’

  The same accountant.

  Yorke felt a wave of nausea.

  Money. Skimmed money. Dirty money.

  He rubbed his throbbing forehead with the palms of his hands.

  ‘Are you okay, Michael?’ Firth asked.

  Not really. Not now money was involved.

  Money connected everything, and now he had to go and tell Madden that he was potentially compromised.

  The difference between me and you, Herbert, is that I don’t do any of this for myself. People like you are bloodsuckers. Take, take, take.

  After marching up the path to the house which was once his, after glancing at the garden gnomes his Frank loved to rearrange, after checking that the bundle of cash was still in his jacket pocket, and after he recalled killing someone in the living room here not so long ago, he knocked on the front door.

  Sheila opened the door. She was in her dressing gown and her hair was dishevelled. She didn’t look pleased to see him. Mind you, when he lived here, she’d never really looked pleased to see him.

  ‘I’m busy,’ she said.

  ‘Have you got someone with you?’

  Sheila smiled. ‘Really? That’s the first thing you think of?’

  Jake didn’t respond.

  ‘No, I haven’t. I’m just busy. Look at the state of you.’

  ‘I’m not sleeping well. The bedsit’s freezing.’

  ‘And that stops you going to the barbers, or having a shave? Why are you here Jake?’

  ‘Thought I could maybe see Frank.’

  ‘It’s not your day.’

  ‘That sounds like lawyer talk. I thought we’d agreed to make this amicable?’

  ‘We have.’

  Sheila had her hand on the edge of the door, waiting to close it. Was she paranoid he might do something, or did she just want rid of him quick-smart?

  ‘He’s young. He needs routine.’

  ‘I’m his father. Seeing me should be routine. Five minutes won’t hurt.’

  ‘Not today, Jake.’ She started to close the door.

  ‘You’ve got someone in there, haven’t you?’

  ‘Precisely why it’s not a good idea that you come in. You’re completely paranoid.’

  Jake reached into his pocket and thrust the wad of twenty-pound notes in her direction.

  Her eyes widened. ‘What the fuck is that?’

  ‘Everything.’ I give. I do not take.

  ‘What do you mean everything?’

  ‘Just take it Sheila. I love you, and I love Frank. Two certainties in this world. Two things that will never change. Take it.’

  ‘Where did you get it?’

  ‘Overtime. Nothing much else to do.’

  ‘That’s a lot of overtime. Those are twenty-pound notes! They’ve been cutting back on overtime for years and now they’re throwing it at you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why not just transfer it over.’

  ‘Just take it Sheila.’

  ‘I won’t take it, not until I know where it’s from.’

  He heard crying in the background.

  ‘Frank?’

  ‘Goodbye Jake.’ Sheila closed the door.

  He looked across at the living room window.

  Lacey prodded Simon Young’s corpse with her foot. ‘Your first?’

  He looked down at the money in his hand.

  ‘I always knew you had it in you,’ Lacey said.

  He thrust it through the letterbox.

  This is not mine, Sheila, it’s yours. I refuse to be the same as all the rest. I refuse to be the same as Herbert Wheelhouse, as Lacey Ray, as Luke Parkinson.

  Take, take, take.

  He turned from the door and headed back to his vehicle.

  That’s not me.

  9

  WILTSHIRE HQ GLARED.

  Forget HMP Hancock, forget the brain-splattered radio studio, forget the ash cloud that looked like a pool of bloody phlegm, true anguish, for Yorke, could be found in an office on that third floor.

  Superintendent Joan Madden was a stickler for the rules. A close relative of Patricia had become involved in the case. There was no way on God’s green earth Madden was overlooking this one.

  After parking his car, he showed his ID in reception, and took the stairs. Anything that slowed down this journey was particularly welcome. He was in no rush to be removed from Operation Tagline.

  But the inevitable came very quickly, as it always seemed to do and, before he knew it, he was in the office, sitting before a spindly boss with cheekbones you could open bottles of beer with.

  She got straight to the point; she knew about Douglas Firth. Yorke repeated back everything Firth had told him. He then slumped back in the chair, preparing himself for a crippling blow.

  ‘So you’re compromised?’ Madden said.

  Yorke nodded. ‘I guess so, but until we speak to George Johnson, the accountant, I guess we could stay openminded? Firth might have no connection with Operation Tagline whatsoever.’

  ‘No connection?’ Madden smiled. ‘With money involved?’

  ‘I’m still holding onto that chance.’

  She stood up and went over to her window. She stared down at the carpark, where Yorke had been staring up from minutes ago. ‘Every day I work out. Every single day. It might be a run, it could be a swim, it could be weights … every single day. My heart beats below forty a minute - the same as an Olympian. My body fat’s less than ten percent. I’ve a personal trainer, and I’ve read countless pieces of literature on fitness, and the evidence is overwhelming. To maintain this fitness level and weight, I don’t need to exercise as much as I do. Not every day, and certainly not for the durations I go for. But even with all of this documented scientific proof, I’m not prepared to change it. And why? Because nothing can ever be an absolute certainly. Nothing. And no matter how small the chance. No matter how minuscule, I would never embrace it. Do you understand what I’m saying here, Michael?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am, of course.’ Yorke sighed. I’m not a fool. ‘So, who’re you thinking of handing it over to?’

  ‘Luke.’

  Yorke was back on his feet. ‘Parkinson? You’re kidding! With all due respect, ma’am, do you want to find whoever did this?’

  Madden smiled. ‘Very much so. And in the process, I’d like to kill two birds with one stone. Sit down, Michael, and I will explain. Don’t be so tempestuous, it really doesn’t suit you. I like
you for all the opposite reasons. You are calm, collected and authoritative, you’re not a wild animal.’

  ‘Like Luke Parkinson?’

  Madden smiled again. ‘Like Luke Parkinson.’

  ‘Okay … so what’s going on?’

  ‘If I left you as SIO on this case, there’d be a few raised eyebrows in the station. You could be compromised. Probably are. Am I bothered? Not really. You’re the best I’ve got, and you wouldn’t let it interfere with your duty. But I need to be careful of those raised eyebrows. So, you’re still on the case, just not in charge. At least not on the surface …’

  ‘Sorry, ma’am, but this really doesn’t sound like you. Is something else going on here …?’

  ‘Come on, Michael. We all have pretence. How do you know this isn’t the real me?’ She smiled. ‘So do you wish me to go on or would you rather I just took you off the case completely?’

  ‘No, sorry, ma’am, please continue.’

  ‘The outcome of this situation is inevitable. Luke is a loose cannon. In the limelight, he won’t last a day running the investigation. With you watching him like a hawk, we can be certain of this. The first mistake, whether that be manhandling a witness, a racist comment, sexual misconduct or even forgetting to file his bloody paperwork, I’ll haul him over the coals and have him on competency. Then, it’s all a matter of time. We’ll either get him transferred out of our station or, better still, out of the force.’

  Yorke couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He shook his head.

  ‘Your thoughts?’

  Yorke widened his eyes. ‘My thoughts? I thought you really liked Parkinson!’

  She wagged a finger at him. ‘There’s that pretence again.’

  Yorke nodded. ‘Keep your friends close and your—’

  ‘Precisely. The best thing about all of this is that it becomes a win-win for you.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘In a day or two, when he’s off the case, and you’ve hopefully proven that Firth is nothing to do with the death of Janice Edwards, I’ll have to put you back in charge again.’

  Yorke nodded. ‘Are you sure this’ll work?’

  ‘Didn’t you hear what I said about chance?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am, but surely chance is involved here also?’