Fear the Past

by J M Dalgliesh

  Caslin thanked him and left him to get on with the remainder of the inspection. Turning to Hunter, he indicated they should look around. They both took out torches and progressed into the building proper, picking their way through the debris. The going was slow as they were careful not to contaminate any potential forensic evidence.

  “Made a hell of a mess,” Hunter said, sidestepping a pool of water and shielding her head from the water trickling down from above.

  “What did he say the casualty count was?”

  “Two dead and three injured. Two of the latter are critical requiring emergency surgery and the other is stable but unconscious. Add that to the residents evacuated during the night and the numbers increase.”

  “Injuries?”

  “A few cuts from flying glass. Shock and a reaction to the cold mainly. The fear of a secondary explosion or building collapse meant they were unceremoniously dragged out, many in their bedclothes and a number of them are elderly.”

  “Staff or clients inside the cab office?” Caslin asked.

  Hunter shook her head. “No IDs yet. Terry Holt is at the hospital trying to get the names and we’re working on the assumption that at least two were manning the office and the remainder could be a mix of customers and drivers. There was one car immediately parked outside and that is registered to the business but we don’t know who was driving it last night.”

  “Could have been much worse,” Caslin said quietly, angling the beam of his torch towards the floors above. “And this is definitely one of Fuller’s, yes?”

  Hunter nodded, “I double checked.”

  Caslin took in a sharp breath, “Pete’s going to be pissed off.”

  “Who would be stupid enough?” Hunter countered. Caslin inclined his head. She had a point. Pete Fuller was a name to be fearful of, not only in York but across all four counties making up the greater Yorkshire area.

  “He’s been gone some time though.”

  “Who’s running the organisation now? Is it still the boys?” Hunter queried.

  “Last I heard. Ashton was taking the lead with Carl backing him up and running the muscle.”

  “Looks like he doesn’t have the iron grip that his father did.”

  “I’m not aware of anyone chancing their arm but maybe someone’s taken a view that now’s the time,” Caslin floated the theory. He hoped that wasn’t the case. The three largest crime syndicates operating in the city stuck to their own patches. There was the occasional skirmish as the lower levels tried to make names for themselves at the expense of their rivals but, on the whole, they kept their distance. That approach was good for business and all of them were very much focussed on money above all else.

  “Or the Fuller boys are spreading their wings,” Hunter added.

  “Stepping out from Pete’s shadow?” Caslin clarified.

  “And someone wants to put them back in their box.”

  “We need to speak to them and gauge what their response will be. Nip it in the bud before things get out of hand. Also get onto the National Crime Agency and see if there is any intelligence we’re unaware of regarding Fuller and his crew. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d neglected to keep us in the loop.”

  Further conversation was interrupted by the ringing of Caslin’s mobile. Glancing at the screen, he saw it was DC Terry Holt.

  “Terry,” Caslin greeted him.

  “Sir, I’m at the hospital,” Holt began, his tone conveyed he wouldn’t be delivering good news. “Another one has died in theatre. Her injuries were too severe.”

  “That’s three. What of the others?” Caslin asked.

  “One stable but is currently in a medically induced coma and the other is still in surgery. I’ve nothing further on the latter.”

  “Any idea who they were?”

  “I’ve identified one, a Matt Jarvis. Looks like he was trying to get a cab home.”

  “If he was in the front office, he’d have been furthest from the explosion so that’d make sense,” Caslin explained.

  “Got off lightly… so to speak,” Holt said before correcting himself.

  “I know what you mean. Keep me posted,” Caslin said before hanging up. He looked to Hunter, “We had better go and see Ashton.”

  “I doubt we’ll get a warm welcome.”

  Caslin smiled, “Ashton is level-headed… at least, as level-headed as you can get when you’re a narcissistic sociopath.”

  “And he’s widely considered to be the sensible one,” Hunter added with a wry grin.

  They stepped out of the building. Looking back, Caslin scanned the mix of damp, charred timber and brickwork still smouldering in the early morning light. The thought came to him that if they didn’t solve this case quickly, they might see an escalation in similar acts being committed. The death toll would only increase and the chances of more innocents being caught in the crossfire amplified.

  Heading in the direction of the cordon, in place at both ends of the street, Caslin noted their approach was being watched by the journalist who had spoken with him earlier. With a flick of his head, he ensured Hunter had registered her presence to ensure she also remained tight-lipped. Caslin was adamant they needed to keep a lid on this situation for as long as possible. They were prepared for the questions this time and Caslin took a deep breath as they reached her location. A uniformed constable, there to maintain the barrier between the public and crime scene, lifted the tape allowing them to pass under.

  “Inspector, any news on the number of casualties?” she harangued him as soon as he was beyond the safety of the cordon.

  “A statement will be released later. I’m afraid I have no news for you,” he said politely but firmly, leaving no doubt as to his desire to not enter into conversation.

  “Any word from Peter Fuller?” the journalist asked. Caslin stopped. This wasn’t the office junior sent out to cover a story in the early hours. She clearly knew the lay of the land and had done some homework. He very much wished he hadn’t. Stopping, he indicated for Hunter to get the car and turned towards the journalist. The camera was filming across her shoulder and directly at him, including the backdrop of the destroyed building. Caslin shuffled sideways knowing the dramatic scene would now be out of shot.

  “We are yet to speak with the owners of the premises in question,” he began. “Our thoughts are very much with the injured as well as those who have been temporarily evacuated from their homes and businesses.”

  “And the cause of the explosion, has it been determined?” she asked, cutting over his last words. Her candour struck Caslin. Many times, in previous situations, he’d have been able to keep talking without really saying anything of real note - the interviewer being happy to get anything out of him. This felt different. “Why are Major Crimes investigating a gas leak?”

  “A statement will be forthcoming. Please excuse me,” he said and strode away as fast as he could without appearing to be fleeing. Hunter brought the car alongside and he clambered in as more persistent questioning came in his direction. He ignored it, closing the door and Hunter accelerated away. Caslin let out a sigh of relief. He was never one who sought the limelight always preferring to defer press conferences to those who either revelled in them or were more suited to the experience.

  Lowering the visor, he used the vanity mirror to observe the duo watching them drive away. He was impressed. This journalist knew her background. He very much wished she hadn’t and figured it would be best to steer a path well clear of her in the future.

  Chapter Three

  Hunter eyed a break in the traffic and took the turn into the yard. Three men of Asian appearance were busy rubbing down a Mercedes that positively shone even on a grey morning such as this. One of them glanced over at the new arrivals and indicated for them to drive forward into the bay. Hunter shook her head and instead, reversed the car into an old parking space delineated by fading white paint put down long ago. Shrugging his shoulders, the man returned his focus to helping his colleag
ues finish off the car they were working on. On such a wet morning, the men operating the hand car wash would be unlikely to do a roaring trade but that mattered little in the vast scheme of things.

  They were parked on an old petrol station forecourt. No longer used, all that remained to indicate the nature of the previous business was the overhead canopy. The attendant’s office as well as the pumps themselves were long gone. These little enterprises were popping up all over the city, all over the country. Cheap to operate and occupying sites considered unfit for any other practical purpose, they were cash-based businesses that in themselves were becoming rarer with the advancement of the digital age. Beyond the forecourt to the rear scaffolding rose four stories and no doubt would end up even higher once the building work neared completion. A developer’s sign advertised that the properties, luxury apartments close to the city centre, were available for purchase off plan.

  “They are branching out, aren’t they?” Hunter said, inclining her head towards the building work. Caslin pursed his lips before answering.

  “Whilst not missing out on the opportunity to keep their core trade ticking over,” he replied, staring at the three men as they waved off a grateful owner, leaving the forecourt in his gleaming vehicle.

  Abandoned petrol stations couldn’t be developed for many years due to the underground storage tanks potentially contaminating the site and the subsequent risk of explosion. Many of these sites lay to waste as speculative purchasers waited until such time as they were able to exploit the real estate. This was one such a place. The Fullers had several of these car washing facilities scattered around, wedded to other parts of their organisation consisting of fast-food outlets, minicab firms, low-end used car dealerships and dry cleaners. All businesses that handled a high turnover of cash thus making it easy to launder the wealth generated through their drug dealing, protection rackets and other illegal enterprises. Evidently, they were now channelling their funds through legitimate construction projects such as the apartment block currently springing from the wasteland of rotting premises. Built with the proceeds of crime, these apartments would undoubtedly enable them to launder even more money by way of inflated construction costs that were only ever payable on a spreadsheet.

  They got out of the car. The wash attendants paid them little attention. Two were now seating themselves on camping chairs and nursing cups of coffee to warm their sodden hands in the absence of a waiting client. A third retreated into a small portacabin, reappearing moments later with a steaming mug in one hand and a mobile phone in the other. He talked into the latter, his eyes never leaving the two newcomers as they crossed the compound in search of the site office in the construction zone.

  The area was cordoned off with Herras fencing and they walked along the boundary until they reached the gate. It was open, work on the site being well underway and they passed through. None of the workmen acknowledged their presence amid the sounds of a banksman directing a lorry load of supplies across the site and shouts from a foreman above to his team of bricklayers. They skirted the activity keeping to the sides and picking their way across the churned earth beneath their feet. The recent rainfall, cold weather and the heavy plant combined to turn the site into a quagmire. Scaffold boards were laid in places to make traversing the site by foot easier but even so, the going was tricky.

  Noting several temporary buildings, they ended up asking where they could find the office and were directed to one on the eastern edge of the site. By the time they’d located the building word had spread of their arrival. Standing outside but leaning against the door jamb, on a ramp leading up to the door, was a young man in his thirties. He was tall, sporting close-cropped dark hair and warily watched them approach with an impassive expression.

  “Good morning, Carl.”

  “Mr Caslin,” Carl Fuller replied. “What brings you here?”

  “Your brother around, is he?” Caslin countered. “The two of you are never far apart.” Carl indicated inside with a brief flick of the head.

  “DS Hunter,” Hunter introduced herself, holding up her warrant card before Carl.

  “Whatever,” he said, locking eyes with her and ignoring the identification. He didn’t seem inclined to break his gaze so Hunter did so, following Caslin inside.

  The interior was much like any other construction site office. Wipe boards were hanging on the wall with progress charts laid out in schedules of red, blue and a black marker. Plans were laid out on one desk with a line of filing cabinets adjacent as well as opposite. Three men stood huddled around another desk at the far end, deep in discussion, with papers strewn out before them. One, in the middle with his back to them, Caslin recognised as Ashton Fuller. His giant waves of blonde hair, in stark contrast to his brother, saw him stand out without the need to see his face. Of the other two, one was heavy set and much older. Judging by his attire, Caslin figured him to be a contractor whilst the other was far younger and taking a back seat in the discussion.

  Caslin cleared his throat and Ashton glanced up in their direction, unsurprised by their presence. Returning to his conversation, he looked between the two men to either side of him seeking their agreement.

  “I’ll take care of it,” the larger man said.

  “Good,” Ashton confirmed. “Come back to me later, yeah?” The man nodded and turned to leave, paying the new arrivals no attention whatsoever. The younger man also left. He flicked his eyes towards Caslin as he passed in what the latter figured was a nervous action. He seemed familiar but Caslin couldn’t place him. Being a part of the Fuller’s crew would mean they’d probably crossed paths at some point over the years. “Detective Inspector Caslin,” Ashton said warmly in a welcoming tone. “What brings you here?”

  “One of your businesses going up in flames,” Caslin said flatly. He noted Carl entering behind them. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw Carl lean against the wall folding his arms across his chest in front of him. “What can you tell me about it?”

  Ashton momentarily followed Caslin’s glance towards his brother before addressing the question. “It is unfortunate.”

  “Particularly for your employees who were inside,” Hunter added.

  “Very,” Ashton said, expressionless.

  “Can you tell us who was present?” Caslin asked. Ashton nodded. Crossing the office, he retrieved a scrap of paper. Returning, he handed it to Caslin who eyed the list of names. There were four, one woman and three men.

  “Sally was working the comms last night. Tom was with her and the other two were drivers,” Ashton said. “Any word on how they are?”

  “I thought you might be at the hospital,” Caslin said. He was being disingenuous and he knew it.

  “I have a business to run. Besides, I figured someone like you would be dropping by this morning,” Ashton stated, pushing aside the plans atop the nearest desk and perching himself on the edge.

  “Sally is dead,” Caslin said. “As are two of the others but one is in surgery. They are hopeful.”

  “Good to know,” Carl said from behind him.

  “A member of the public is also in a serious but stable condition,” Caslin added.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Ashton said. Caslin didn’t believe him.

  “You haven’t asked about the cause,” Caslin said, moving further into the office and turning so both brothers were in his sightline. Ashton shrugged.

  “Enlighten me,” he said, folding his arms.

  “Gas leak,” Caslin said, watching closely for a reaction. The thought occurred, Ashton must be one hell of a card player because he was unreadable.

  “Should be illegal,” Carl said, sniffing loudly. “Poor workmanship.”

  “True,” Caslin said, flicking his eyes towards Carl and back to his elder brother. “How’s business?”

  Ashton smiled, “Booming, Mr Caslin. We’re on the up.”

  “Any of your competition making inroads?” Hunter asked.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ca
rl asked. Hunter turned to him.

  “In a world of finite resources when you want to grow it always comes at the expense of another, doesn’t it?” she asked. “Basic market economics.”

  “You’re a lot smarter than you look,” Carl sneered. He was about to respond further but Ashton shot him a dark look ensuring he kept quiet.

  “We are competitive,” Ashton answered.

  “How about Clinton Dade?” Caslin asked, referencing the Fullers’ historical adversary. Carl scoffed, unable to contain his reaction.

  “That old mincer!” he said before Ashton could speak. “He wouldn’t dare.”

  “Dare to do what?” Caslin asked. Carl looked to his brother who, for the first time, appeared to drop the mask he so carefully maintained.

  “Nothing,” Carl muttered, turning his attention to the floor. Ashton took a deep breath and looked at Caslin.

  “We’ve not come across Clinton in quite some time. There’s no issue between us,” Ashton argued. “Besides, I have a lot of time for the elderly. You have to look out for people, don’t you?”

  Caslin let the silence hang for a few moments as he assessed the brothers. They also appeared comfortable enough to allow it to continue. Caslin’s gaze fell on the eldest who returned it. After a few seconds, Ashton raised his eyebrows initiating a questioning look. Caslin rolled his tongue against his cheek in the inside of his mouth. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew one of his contact cards.

  “If anything comes to you that you think I should know, do give me a call,” he said, stepping forward and offering the card. Ashton glanced at it but he didn’t make a move to accept it. Caslin reached past and placed it onto the desk alongside him, bringing him into close proximity with the younger man. Before stepping back, Caslin held his position and leaned in close enough that only the two of them could hear his words. “Don’t do anything hasty, Ashton. And see to it no one else does either, for all our sakes,” he almost whispered, casting a lingering look towards Carl who stared at him with a face like thunder. Stepping away, he added in a voice for all to hear, “We’ll be in touch.”