The George Elms Trilogy Box Set

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘He’s not going to come looking for me. And if he did it would only be if he’s realised what he’s done and he’ll be all dopey. He always gets angry then gets really dopey and sorry straight after. He’ll be really suffering right now. It was my fault, really. I know what pisses him off and I still asked those questions.’

  ‘Don’t even start, Becks! Don’t you dare make excuses for that animal.’ Alice twisted the rear-view mirror so her sister could see her own reflection. ‘Look what he did to you! Don’t ever forget what he did to you. No one deserves that. And what did you do? Ask him if he was alright because he had blood on him! You’re too good for him, Becks. You were too good right from the start.’

  ‘I did try telling him that.’ Becks started to smile. She flinched and her hand rose to her swollen cheek.

  Alice’s anger flared suddenly again. ‘Listen, my mate at work, she’s dating this copper. He sounds alright, you know. We could speak to him off the record, like. Just see what—’

  ‘NO! Please, Alice. Please don’t do anything. We’ll think this out.’

  ‘Fine. Let’s get you home. Take what you need and get in my car. You can leave this one here.’

  * * *

  George Elms lifted the phone hastily to his ear. ‘Ryker? Give me just a sec!’ He dropped the phone back to his waist then spoke to the youth stood at the till in front of him.

  ‘I’ll just take that one. With the receipt, he can bring it back right?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess so.’

  ‘You guess so? What do I need to do to get a definite answer? Speak to someone who works here?’ Despite his frustration at the service it was George who felt out of place. He was in a videogame store, surrounded by a generation that might as well be another species. The boy shrugged his shoulders. It wasn’t confusion, it wasn’t that he didn’t get the sarcasm and it certainly wasn’t anger. Apathy, George guessed — the one word that summed up the youth of today. George slapped a twenty-pound note on the desk and scooped up the bag. He lifted the phone and scurried towards daylight.

  ‘Sorry, Ryker. I was just trying to communicate with someone below the age of twenty-five.’

  ‘I can see why you might find that a challenge.’

  ‘What, because I’m so intelligent and on a higher academic plane?’

  ‘No. There isn’t anyone under the age of twenty-five left with less qualifications than the likes of us now, George. I just meant that you’re so out of touch.’

  ‘Suits me, Ryker. What the fuck do you want anyway? I assume there’s an update from the interview?’

  ‘He didn’t say much more. Nothing more that’s useable for us. He confirmed that he and his brother were brought over on the ferry, in a lorry carrying tomatoes, by a gang involved in dealing drugs. He confirmed that he had dealt drugs in the past and he owed these people a debt. He didn’t say how much.’

  ‘Must be a hell of a debt for them to go to all that trouble.’

  ‘I agree. Then he said that he and his brother were driven to a location and his brother was killed. Decapitated. He wouldn’t say exactly how, just that they tried to do the same to him and he was able to escape. He showed off a red mark round his neck.’

  ‘So I was right! How on earth do you escape a decapitation with a red mark round your neck? It’s either off or it isn’t, right?’

  ‘He did mention a car on a road. We’ve had gang members killed in cars before, where they had something tied around their neck and then tied off round something fixed. The car then accelerated until the rope tightens. It’s pretty effective.’

  ‘Fuck yeah! I think I heard of it once a long time ago. That was a suicide though?’

  ‘That’s the point, force them to drive and it looks like suicide. We talked about this before, remember? The best way to get away with murder?’

  ‘Make it look like a suicide,’ George said.

  ‘Exactly. Or at least make sure the death is never investigated as a murder. These gang members had suicide notes for their family — the whole hog. They may have been genuine of course.’

  ‘Wouldn’t work so well with two in the car though. That’s always going to be investigated as a suspicious death.’

  ‘True. I’m not saying that they’ve tried to make this look like a suicide, there’s no body for a start.’

  ‘No. I guess there might have been. They may well have had to change their plans when our Polish friend managed to wriggle out of it.’

  ‘Pliers, I think. He found a pair of pliers in the boot of the car. Reading between the lines I think they got him to set it all up himself. It’s like digging your own grave. That’s pretty evil.’ Emily sort of chuckled.

  ‘And sensible. That way the only prints and DNA belong to the victims. The poor bastard would have tied his own noose.’

  ‘And his brother’s. He must have cut the wire round his neck when the car started.’

  ‘Yeah. Can you imagine the panic, he can’t have been the driver. He didn’t manage to cut it completely, just weakened it enough that it snapped.’ George exhaled loudly. ‘Think of that, Ryker!’

  ‘He wasn’t quick enough to save his brother.’

  ‘Horrible bastards.’

  ‘Exactly, so he’s suitably terrified of these people and he’s doing exactly as expected, promising to talk to us when he knows he’s safe. There’s a lot of work going on in the background to get him moved over to Witness Protection in the next twenty-four hours. The one thing they were able to convince him to do was a drive-out.’

  ‘To ID the scene?’

  ‘Exactly. The DS is going to take him back to where he was picked up and then around the area to see if he remembers anything. Without that scene there’s nowhere to start. The DS has asked me to ride out with them.’

  ‘She asked you?’

  ‘Yeah, she thinks I might be of use from an intelligence point of view. She seems to think I have a photographic knowledge of all criminals and their vehicles under Op Vapour and I’d be able to effectively spot a tail.’

  ‘No pressure, then!’

  ‘None at all. I think they’re arranging a marked car to chaperone — just to put off any efforts by the gangs to continue their conversation with Mr Nowak. But I don’t expect that’s high on their list. They’d be far better slipping quietly into the background for now.’

  ‘I agree. That’s if they somehow expected us to do it. Let me know how you get on.’

  ‘Will do. What are you up to? I guess we’re running out of lines of enquiry until they make contact with Shaun. We’re not going to have a Plan B after all.’

  ‘You’re right. There is something I wanted to revisit. I think it’s a case of wait and see for now.’

  ‘That won’t go down well with Shaun.’

  ‘No, I saw him earlier and wait and see is obviously the last thing he wants to do. I totally understand it, you just want to be out standing on the throat of whoever it is that’s got your kid.’

  ‘We are getting closer, George.’

  ‘We are. It’s not a giant leap for a gang forcing men to take their own heads off in a speeding car to convincing other men to jump from a viaduct. We’re very close. But close means nothing right now.’

  ‘I’ll be in touch when our tour of the county is over.’

  ‘Speak soon.’

  George had made it back to his car by the time the call had ended. He had crossed the pedestrianised area of Langthorne’s town centre and walked through the main bus station. His car was in a one-hour bay, pointing away from the town centre. He pulled back out into the flow of traffic. Radio 2 came on with the ignition: The Beatles — Here Comes the Sun.

  * * *

  The door was opened with some trepidation. The sort of open where it was clear it was ready to be slammed closed at any point. Through the slim crack George could just make out the gaunt face of Sharon Leonard peering through her own door. She fidgeted and looked down like someone was tugging at her leggings. George smiled and tried to
look reassuring. The sun had indeed come out, it was high enough in the sky to arrow through the slit in the door over his shoulder. Sharon was squinting.

  ‘You can tell me to go away, Sharon, I don’t need to talk to you. I just came to see how you were getting on. And to drop this off.’ George pulled a slim object from a carrier bag and pushed it into the gap. Sharon’s eyes moved to it, she stepped back and it was pulled through. The door pushed shut and George waited. A few seconds passed, some muffled words and then the door opened wider.

  ‘What’s that for?’ George could see all of Sharon now, but she still stood blocking his entrance.

  ‘I honestly have no idea. I think it’s a computer game, Sharon, but my goodness have they changed since I last played them. You ever play Pac Man? I was good at that.’

  Sharon’s expression warmed a little. ‘I did actually. They had one in the Working Men’s Club down the road. My dad would be drunk in there — too drunk to take care of me. I used to steal change off him when he fell asleep. Nothing else to do.’

  ‘Dammit. There was me thinking I had picked something I was best at. You could probably give me a run for my money.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Someone bought me a voucher I won’t ever use. I figured Connor might appreciate a new game. Unless you like first person shoot-ups? I don’t even know what that is, but it sounds horrific.’

  ‘Well, thanks.’

  ‘Yeah thanks!’ Connor’s excited chatter came from behind his nan. ‘It’s the new one, nan!’ Sharon smiled again as he disappeared.

  ‘I just wanted to see you were okay is all. I didn’t come to ask any questions.’

  ‘Makes a change from you lot. They do keep coming, you’re persistent if nothing else.’

  ‘We get called a lot worse.’

  ‘You want a cup of tea? I was making one.’

  ‘That would be lovely. As long as you don’t have Pac Man. Now I think I might get shown up.’ George walked into the living room behind Sharon. It was not a home that looked better in the daylight. It was still cluttered and untidy and George could now make out a thin layer of dust wherever there was a surface. The curtains were still roughly drawn so the natural light was limited, the light from bare bulbs added to the bleakness.

  ‘Sorry I ain’t done nothing with me face, or tidied up or nothing. I’m normally good with the housework. Just not been in the mood you know.’

  ‘I can imagine. Housework might just be the last thing you want to do.’ George’s mind flashed back to his conversation with Shaun an hour or so earlier where he had taken out his nervous tension on his vacuum cleaner.

  ‘I didn’t sleep much.’

  ‘It’ll take you a long time to get over these last couple of days, Sharon. I know that better than anyone. Don’t think you need to be making excuses either. Everyone will understand that you’ve been through a hell of a time.’

  ‘You’ve had it then? Days like I had?’

  ‘I’ve had my fair share of trauma, Sharon. Sign of getting older, isn’t it?’

  ‘Who knows. I see some of my friends, they ain’t never known nothing like it. Charmed lives they’ve got. Me and Bobby always used to say the same. These people don’t know they’re born.’

  ‘I know what you mean. It never seems to be spread out evenly does it.’

  ‘No. I musta got all of theirs. You people any closer to finding them what did this?’

  ‘No. We don’t have much to go on, Sharon. Whoever these people are, they seem to have a real influence over their victims. No one’s telling us much. It’s what these sorts of people do. They’re bullies, and any bully knows that the seat of their power is fear.’

  ‘Too right it is. I ain’t no coward, but I got my boy to think about. And it’s just me now, Bobby may not have looked much but he was handy, you know. He could look after himself and he would certainly look after me if he needed to.’

  ‘I bet he could.’

  Sharon led through to the kitchen. George stopped short of going in, leaning on the surround while Sharon made the tea. A round dining table was tucked against the wall, it was busy with paperwork. He peered back into the kitchen. A calendar hung from a kitchen unit — March was a perfectly manicured cat with long white hair and a red bow — and George noted that today’s date was filled out with the words Anniversary! Don’t get that long for murder! George allowed a smile. The jokes were the same, no matter the couple. He turned back towards the table. On top of the paperwork was a manila envelope. It had been ripped open and a white card embossed with raised lettering was visible — a gift card. George checked Sharon was still busy making his tea, he reached over and tugged out the card. He spun it round. Happy Anniversary to a wonderful wife. He flipped it open. The whole card was handwritten text, a long love letter signed Bobby xxx. George scanned it as quick as he could. Sharon finished the tea and he was out of time.

  ‘Have many people been round? I assume you have friends and family in the area?’

  ‘Pfft! Nosey fuckers, more like it. They all just want to know what’s going on. They see the cops coming round. They see Facebook about someone jumping and it gets out it’s my Bobby. They come round saying how sorry they are, they should just come right out with it and say how nosey they are.’

  ‘I didn’t realise the timing.’ George took a mug from Sharon. He gestured with his eyes towards the calendar as he took a sip.

  Sharon sighed long and hard. ‘thirty-two years today. Every one of them a slog. But I would give you anything and everything right now for that man to walk back in through that door.’

  ‘I understand. Marriage isn’t easy, but it’s an awful lot harder to live without.’

  ‘Are you married, Sergeant?’

  ‘For now.’

  Sharon afforded a smile. ‘Planning an upgrade?’

  ‘Goodness no! I’m already batting well above my average. I’m just trying to cling on, we’ve had a difficult couple of years ourselves.’

  ‘You cling on all you can then, George. A good one is worth fighting for.’

  ‘He knew he was going, yesterday, didn’t he?’ George watched closely for a reaction.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He didn’t make the decision yesterday. He must have had contact with these people before they took you off the street. Did you know about it?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean? I thought you weren’t here to ask me no questions.’

  ‘I’m not. Nothing that you have to answer. The card he sent you, did it arrive today?’

  ‘The card?’ Sharon bustled past and snatched it up. She walked it back into the kitchen and scowled. You been going through my stuff? That ain’t even legal! I let you in here because you’ve been nice. Because I thought you was here to be nice.’

  ‘Sharon, I only came round to see you, to see the boy. But this card, the note inside . . .’ George reached for the card but Sharon snatched it closer to her chest. ‘It reads like there was money in there. A fair bit. If he had contact with these people, if money changed hands, there might be a trail. I want to find the bastards that did this to you, Sharon, that did this to your family.’

  ‘The card arrived today. He sent it me, he wouldn’t be the first bloke to plan his own death. He’s been threatening to do it for months.’

  ‘He just needed that final push didn’t he Sharon. No pun intended. Maybe Bobby would still be here if these people hadn’t got in touch.’

  ‘And maybe he wouldn’t.’

  ‘Maybe this worked out better for you? How much did you earn out of this?’

  ‘Get OUT!’ Sharon lunged towards George. She raised both her hands and punched George in the chest. George got hold of her flailing hands, wrapped them up and got hold of her by her elbows. She was sobbing hard, she couldn’t talk and she stepped into George.

  ‘Sharon, it’s okay. I know you didn’t want this. Just tell me what happened.’

  Sharon fought to get herself back under con
trol. She pushed George away and turned back into the kitchen. George noticed movement at the foot of the stairs. Sharon must have seen it too. ‘Go back to your bedroom, Connor!’ she snapped. Connor was gone.

  George stayed still. Sharon busied herself on the kitchen surface. A hot drink was no longer on the agenda, she reached up to a cupboard and pulled out a white bottle of liquor. She turned a tumbler up the right way from beside the sink and poured a good measure. She had thrown the card onto the side and it had spilled open, Bobby’s handwritten words right in front of her eyes. She took a swig of the liquid, her lips curled back over her teeth as she took it neat. Her eyes seemed to scan the words.

  ‘I didn’t want no cash. And nor did Bobby. I just wanted Bobby to get better — or to at least try.’ She scooped the glass for a second tilt and the liquid was all gone. ‘Bobby got approached a few days after he first tried it. He took a load of pills sat here with a load of drink. In this fucking house!’ She forced a laugh through her tears. ‘It was never going to be enough. I thought it was a cry for help and we could get through it, you know. He’d only just had the news and he hadn’t taken it well. The street got to know about it. I told you what it’s like around here.’

  ‘All streets are the same.’

  Sharon shook her head and she lifted watery eyes fleetingly towards George. ‘Nah. It’s worse round here. No one works see, no one’s got much going on so the only thing to hold their interest is what everyone else is doing. Someone gets so desperate they try and take their own life, that’s big news round here. Keep them all chewing the fat for a good few days.’ Sharon sighed, she poured another good measure. ‘I suppose I was the same once. Did you want a proper drink, George?’

  ‘Definitely not one of those.’

  Sharon smiled. It was weak, but it cut through the gloom a little. She clicked the kettle back on and prepped a mug with a teabag. ‘Very sensible.’

  ‘So what changed?’

  ‘Changed?’

  ‘Neither of you wanted any cash. You wanted Bobby to get better. And here we are, you got a payment and Bobby’s gone.’

  ‘Twelve grand.’ Another weak smile. ‘Thirty-two years married, they offered us twelve grand to bring it all to an end.’