Old Crackers

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Old Crackers Page 33

by Peter Bates


  “Has he got any form?”

  “No form at all, eh. Well, that’s very unusual under the circumstances. Who called it in?”

  Pendleton again listened before speaking again with obvious surprise in his voice. “The bloke that did it called it in? That’s even more unusual.”

  Pendleton once more listened to his caller. “OK,” he finally said. “Don’t give the bloke a hard time. Just hold him until I get back. You can make him a cup of tea too. He deserves one.”

  Norman Pendleton clicked off his phone and blankly stared at it for a moment before replacing it in his jacket pocket. Slowly he turned and faced Roy, Reg, Frank and Roy.

  “Mind blowing,” he said simply.

  “What’s up?” asked Roy.

  “Well as you probably gathered, that was the office. They’ve just been called out to an incident on the promenade. It seems that there’s a young lad named Jim Eccles that runs a fancy goods business down there. About an hour or so ago, he was approached by Mel Harrison and apparently tapped up for some protection money. Harrison was unusually on his own. He probably thought that the lad would be easy pickings. It looks very much like this was one time that he picked on the wrong one. The young man floored him with a single blow and knocked him out stone cold. Harrison is now in hospital.”

  Roy grinned. “He must not have known who Harrison was,”

  “That’s the really odd thing, Roy,” replied Norman. “The boy did know him, and probably knew what to expect even before the demands for protection were made.”

  “Who reported it?” asked Reg.

  “That’s another strange thing. The lad reported it himself, directly to the cop shop.”

  “Good on him,” commented Frank. “The only thing is, the poor bugger will probably do time now for what he did to Harrison.”

  “He wasn’t as daft as you think, Frank. The lad had an out-of-the-way camera and speakers installed in his shop. He’s got a record of everything that Harrison said to him before he planted the bloke.”

  “Hell’s bells.” laughed Terry. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think any jury on earth would put him away for that.”

  “He’ll not be appearing in front of one, Terry. There’s no way I’m going to charge the lad for doing us all a big favour. He was threatened with violence, and simply responded to it. Really, he should be awarded a nice shiny gold medal.”

  “My faith in the force is fully restored, Norman,” grinned Terry. “I don’t suppose that you’ll be charging Harrison for the threats and demands made to Jim Eccles.”

  “Very unlikely,” smiled Norman. “That particular crime is absolutely nothing compared to what we’ll have him in for if we find what we’re looking for here in the wood.”

  “Yes, Norman,” agreed Roy, “and if this dig does go the way that we all hope it will do, Harrison will leave hospital, and then exchange that accommodation for an extremely long holiday in the nick.”

  “It can’t come too soon,” added Frank.

  “Mmm, a town without Mel Harrison and Jed Thomas in it will certainly be a much better place for all of us.”

  CHAPTER 67

  “He should have been back by now,”

  “I guess so, Bob,” agreed Kenny, “but you know what he’s like. He’s probably gone home to give his missus one, or maybe even gone to the pub on his own to celebrate his latest catch. He might have even moved on to one of the others on our list and is doing a bit more business as we speak.”

  “I’ll tell you what, lads,” added Alan. “This protection stuff is an absolute doddle. When the boss gets back, I’m going to suggest that we set up a whole lot more of them. Can you imagine if we had fifty punters altogether? Even at only two hundred pounds each that would be a total of ten grand a month, and in a year or two, we could easily up the pay rate to three hundred quid and then get fifteen grand a month. That’s serious money for doing nothing but walking around and collecting it. I bet that if we put some heavy disguises on and trashed a few places, there’d be a lot more shop owners willing to pay as well.”

  “Alan’s our new commercial director,” laughed Gary.

  “Well, we’ve got all Jed Thomas’ list to get through yet, and now we have no competition either,” added Kenny.

  “The future’s looking good,” smiled Bob. “Things have never been better than they are right now.”

  Alan glanced at his watch. “Where the hell is Mel? He’s taking a very long time.”

  “Why don’t we give him a quick call?” asked Gary.

  “We could,” agreed Kenny, “but you’d better be careful. You know what he’s like when he gets niggly. Maybe the fella has just got held up somewhere and he’s running late. On the other hand, perhaps he’s just busy counting out the money.”

  “That would be good,” grinned Bob. “Just give him another half hour, then we’ll call him.”

  *

  Mel Harrison turned his head slowly on the pillow and then blinked his eyes several times. Gradually, they began to focus on his surroundings. Where was he? There was no wallpaper on the walls, no candelabra hanging from the ceiling above his head. The room was small, and apart from a bedside table, a narrow wardrobe and a tiny TV in one corner, it contained no furnishings. He rubbed his eyes, pulled the white cotton sheets off, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed until his bare feet touched the rubber floor. He didn’t stand immediately, but waited until he could focus more clearly on his surroundings. Where was he? How had he got to this place? Confused, he finally rose to his feet, keeping one hand on the bed for support. He held the same position for at least a full minute, then slowly edged one foot in front of another until he reached the curtained window just six feet or so from the bed. Leaning his knees forward and against the wall, he slowly raised a hand, and pulled the drawn curtain to one side. The relatively bright light caused him to close his eyes for several seconds, then after several more seconds of blinking, he stared out through the clear glass and outside the building.

  The view was unfamiliar. What seemed like a car park, was spread out before him for at least seventy-five to a hundred yards in each direction. Many of its spaces were occupied by vehicles of all shapes and sizes, and several groups of people were moving amongst them. Almost immediately beneath his window and two floors below were two white vans, and as he watched, two ambulancemen stepped out from one of them, and walked around to the van’s back doors. After swinging the metal doors open, they then began to carefully lift a prone person onto a wheeled trolley before steadily pushing it and then disappearing somewhere beneath the room that he was occupying.

  He had to be in a hospital.

  Slowly, Mel Harrison’s brain began to kick into gear, and he shuffled his way from the window and into a small bathroom close to the entrance door of his room. Staring blankly into the mirror brought it all back in a split second. One side of his nose and the area around his left eye was a mixture of blue, black, and deep red. A narrow bandage covered what must have been a fairly deep cut on his upper cheek.

  His recovering mind gradually focused on his last conscious moments. The young man called Jim Eccles, the demand for protection money, nothing since then. He struggled for several moments to believe it. The lad must somehow have floored him. How the hell could Mel Harrison have been so stupid? The other lads wouldn’t even know. They’d be wondering where the hell he had got to.

  Bob, Gary, Alan and Kenny.

  He’d better call them. Maybe even make something up. He couldn’t ever tell them what had really happened. One day soon, for sure, that lad called Eccles would very much regret what he’d done.

  Harrison slowly lowered himself and sat gently on the edge of his bed, waiting for a few moments until he felt stronger, and then changed back into his own clothes which were neatly stacked on the seat of a visitor’s chair. The mobile phone was still in his jacket pocket and he would be using it again very soon. His wad of cash was still there also. Certainly, it was enough for anyt
hing he might need in the next few days or so. For now, he quite simply just had to leave this place and get back quickly into the real world. Quietly, he turned the door handle and edged open the white door, before poking his head into the gap and then looking along the corridor in both directions. So far, so good — the corridor was clear — and he stepped outside. Halfway along the corridor, two nurses appeared from one of the side doors just ten feet ahead of him.

  “Where are you going, sir?” asked the senior nurse gently.

  “I’m off,” grunted Harrison.

  “You can’t do that, sir. You’re still undergoing treatment.”

  “Just you try and stop me.” he yelled into their faces. “I’m out of here right now.”

  Mel Harrison followed the numerous exit signs, passed through several large corridors and within minutes approached the main exit and entrance of the hospital. Several of the passing incoming visitors and staff stared at his marked face and gasped, each one sharply looking away when they saw the look of anger in his eyes, and his bared teeth.

  Harrison passed through the exit doors and halted. He needed to urgently calm down, but it wasn’t in his nature. He took several very deep breaths, drawing the fresh air into his lungs and then headed directly for a taxi rank. He certainly didn’t feel one hundred percent, but he had things to do, and the sooner he got back home and returned to the usual Mel Harrison, the better it would be. Within a few minutes, he was comfortably seated in the back of a black taxi, and heading back home. The rest of the gang would be wondering where he’d got to by now. He would have to make something up. He’d had a fall from a ladder or something similar. One thing was for sure, he certainly wouldn’t be telling them the truth.

  As for that lad — Jim Eccles — he would track him down even if it took forever, and he’d have to do it alone. Sooner or later the lad would pay for what he’d done. Nobody on earth ever got the better of Mel Harrison.

  The cab pulled up outside Harrison’s house.

  “That’ll be ten pounds, sir.”

  Harrison pulled the wad of notes from his pocket, peeled off a twenty, and handed it to the driver.

  The driver delved into his pocket, pulled out a ten-pound note, and held it out towards Harrison.

  “Here’s your change, sir.”

  “Keep it, mate. Have a good day”

  “Thank you, sir,” uttered the driver. “Thank you very much.”

  Harrison turned slowly and blinking his eyes, walked carefully up his driveway until he reached the front door, and pulled a set of keys from his jacket pocket. The first one he tried was incorrect and he swore under his breath, instantly irritated by his own apparent stupidity. The second one did the trick, and with a forced smile he pushed open the door and stepped carefully inside the grand hallway.

  Christine met him halfway along it, her welcoming face changing instantly when she looked into his battered face, and saw his weary expression.

  “Oh my God! What’s happened to you, Mel?”

  “Nothing, I’m fine!”

  “But your face, what’s happened to your face?”

  “I had a fall, that’s all. I’ll be back to normal in a day or two.”

  “It must have been a really bad fall, Mel. Where were you? How did it happen?”

  “Look. Will you shut up, Christine? I had a fall and that’s that.”

  Christine looked up into his angry eyes. The very recent and pleasant Mel Harrison had gone. She had a good idea of how it could have happened. The company that he regularly kept was a sign of what he could be up to when he left their front door, but as always it was something that she would never question.

  “OK, love. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “No, Christine. You can get me a large Scotch, then leave me alone. I’ve got some important phone calls to make.”

  Christine forced a big smile, then turned and headed for the lounge and its large drinks’ cabinet.

  CHAPTER 68

  “Where is he then?” asked Bob.

  Gary replaced his mobile phone on the table top before answering the question.

  “He’s at home, Bob. I just spoke to Christine.”

  “Why didn’t you speak to Mel?”

  “I think that Mel’s asleep right now.”

  “Asleep?”

  “Yes. Apparently, he’s had a really bad fall, and he’s gone and smashed up his face quite a bit.”

  “How the hell’s he done that?” asked Kenny.

  “I don’t know, mate. I don’t think that Christine knows either. He’s just come home with a face full of cuts and bruises, then he’s gone straight to his bedroom. She doesn’t know exactly how it happened, and he’s not giving her any details about it. He’s been into the local hospital and then discharged himself. Apart from that, she knows nothing.”

  “You don’t think that he’s taken a battering off someone, do you?” asked Alan quietly.

  “I can’t believe that he has,” commented Bob. “Who the hell would even attempt to give Mel Harrison a battering, never mind succeed at it. Everyone knows him round here, and they also know that he always has plenty of back-up from us guys.”

  “What about the young lad that he was meeting?” suggested Gary.

  “No way it could be him. He knew that guy, and the guy knew him. The bloke would have known the risk he’d be taking in doing something like that to Mel Harrison.”

  “We need to know though. If it was just a fall it’s unfortunate, but if it wasn’t, we have to know that too, so we can do something about it.”

  “Did you phone the land line Gary?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to phone his own mobile,” stated Kenny. “Christine could have made it all up, or Mel could have spun her a story if it suited him to.”

  “I doubt the first option,” smiled Bob. “I don’t think that she would dare to make it up.”

  Kenny ignored Bob’s comment, pulled his phone from a jacket pocket, and pressed two buttons.

  The phone rang unanswered for more than thirty seconds. Kenny shrugged his shoulders and as he moved his hand to turn it off, a faint voice reached his ears. He quickly switched the phone’s loudspeaker on.

  “Hi boss. It’s Kenny here. I’m with the lads and we heard that you’d had an accident. Are you OK?”

  Harrison’s voice was faint, but load enough to be picked up by the phone’s speakers.

  “I’m OK.”

  “What’s happened? We heard that you’ve had a fall.”

  “I did, Kenny. I tripped up and banged my head accidentally.”

  “Are you going to be all right, Mel?”

  “Sure I am. I’ll just need a few hours or so at the most, then I’ll be back to normal.”

  “Did you get to see the bloke that you were meeting?”

  Harrison hesitated before replying.

  “No, mate. I fell over before I was due to meet him. I’ll be seeing him another day, that’s for sure.”

  For the first time in twenty-four hours, Harrison smiled broadly as he made the statement. Jim Eccles was certainly a dead man walking.

  “OK, boss. So long as you’re OK.”

  “I am. Tell the lads that I’ll be back in no time.”

  “Will do. Take care, boss.”

  Harrison turned off the phone. He was feeling better already. During the last five minutes he’d changed out of all recognition. Thanks to the tablets, the pain had gone and he had now got his mind back. He allowed himself another smile. There were a few people on his list of names that might well know exactly where Jim Eccles hung out. He knew exactly where the man’s shop was, but he really needed the home address. There was no way that he could sort him out in the town centre, but his private address could well be a much easier option. Once more, he picked up the phone and began to dial.

  *

  “It’s taking a while to unearth those bodies,” murmured Reg. “We’ve been here now for ages.”

  “Well, they don’t d
o it like we would, Reg. They really do everything exceptionally carefully and are labelling and photographing all of it as the soil gets taken out and then put into bags.”

  Norman Pendleton walked around the edge of the site and approached the four old-timers. “I bet you lads are cold.”

  “Well,” replied Frank, “it’s not exactly roasting, but none of us would miss this for anything.”

  “Chief Inspector.”

  Norman Pendleton half turned his head and faced one of his younger officers. The man’s face had turned pale. “Yes, Marcus.”

  “We’ve got one out!”

  “See you later, Frank. Duty calls!”

  Norman turned his back on Frank and the others, then walked in a straight line back to the dig.

  “Good news,” muttered Terry.

  “Yes,” agreed Roy. “Dead good!”

  CHAPTER 69

  It took Mel Harrison just a little over twenty-five minutes to locate Jim Eccles. An old contact that Mel had done time with many years ago made the awaited call after Mel’s request for help just ten minutes earlier.

  “He’s living in North Shore, Mel, not far from the Norbreck Hydro. He has a red Toyota four by four and his house is the only white one in William Street. He’s obviously spent a few quid on it lately, so it really stands out like a sore thumb.”

  “Thanks mate, I owe you one, and by the way, keep this call to yourself.”

  “No problem, Mel.”

  Harrison put the phone down, and scratched his head for a few seconds, deep in thought.

  “First things first,” he muttered to himself. “Go see the place, and have a good look around the area. Whatever you spot might just help the plan along.”

  He would have to borrow a car from one of the lads. There was no way that he could roam around the area in his own vehicle, but neither did he want any of the boys with him. This was personal.

  He knew that Bob had a little old Honda Accord. That would do nicely, and would arouse no interest. Harrison picked up his phone.

 

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