by Taylor Leon
A large bearded guy appeared in the doorway. His light blue shirt was stretched tightly over his beer belly, his jeans pulled up tight underneath.
‘Chris,’ she said. ‘These are detectives. They’re looking into the deaths of the policeman and his daughter that we saw on the news.’
He looked at us suspiciously. A big bear of a guy. He was holding a supermarket bag.
‘Picked up a few bits,’ he said to Judith Riley.
‘Why don’t you come and sit down?’ she suggested.
He nodded mutely and went around the table and sat by her side, placing the shopping bag at his feet.
‘We’re out of fruit,’ he said, when he caught me looking at the bag.
‘What do you do?’ I asked pleasantly, despite the looks he was giving us.
‘I’m a cabbie,’ he said. ‘Why?’
‘I’m not quite sure why you’re taking that tone with us Mr…?’
‘Bramble,’ he replied. ‘Christopher Bramble.’
Judith Riley appeared to have discarded her cigarette, as she wrapped her arms around his meaty bicep.
‘Chris has had run-ins with the law,’ she said softly. She looked at him, prompting him to say something more.
‘That’s all in the past,’ he added. He turned his palms up. ‘I’ve done my time.
I noticed Judith squeezed his arm tighter as she continued for him. ‘You’re going to look him up after you leave here, so we might as well save you the bother and tell you now. In a past life he associated with…’ She paused for a moment. ‘The same people my ex-husband did. And Mark.’
‘The NID,’ I said and they both nodded.
‘So, I assume you knew Mark, and his father?’
Chris Bramble rubbed his hands over one another nervously. ‘We were friends,’ he said. ‘Once upon a time. Of course, that changed when Judith and I got together.’
I leaned forward, intrigued about this love triangle. ‘How did Lee Riley take it when he found out about you two?’
‘How do you think?’ Bramble said.
‘We had to leave,’ Judith Riley interrupted. ‘We moved out of London for a while.’
‘And you left your boys behind,’ Cade said. When he saw her inquisitive look, he added, ‘We spoke with your younger son, Carl.’
They looked at one another before the bear looked across at us. ‘Can I get either of you a drink. A coffee or tea?’
We said we were fine.
‘I’ll be next door in the kitchen if you need me,’ he said.
After he left, I noticed Judith was slowly turning the ashtray, her unfinished cigarette resting on the rim. She caught me watching her.
‘Nasty habit,’ she said. ‘I’ve been desperately trying to wean myself off.’ She sat up straight. ‘How is Carl?’
‘You really don’t speak to each other?’ Cade asked.
She shook her head. ‘I last spoke to him six months ago. I don’t blame him. As far as he is concerned I abandoned him and Mark when I ran away with Chris.’
‘But you were scared for your life, weren’t you?’
‘Something like that. Lee had a temper.’ She picked her cigarette back up with a shaking hand, recalling bad memories. ‘He agreed a divorce. Said he wouldn’t come after me, but there was no way he was ever going to give up on his boys.’
‘Must take something for a mother to give up her children like that,’ I said.
‘Do you have kids, detective?’ She asked me, but before I could answer Cade cut across.
‘I do,’ he said.
She turned to him and took another drag of her cigarette. ‘Then you can maybe imagine how scared of Lee Riley I must have been to do that.’
‘But he’s dead now,’ I reminded her.
She shrugged in response. ‘Too late. Mark’s gone. Carl’s all grown up now and very unforgiving. Maybe he’ll come around one day, but I doubt it.’
‘Who else was there in the NID who would be angry and bitter enough to look for revenge now?’ Cade asked.
‘Could be any of them, I guess.’
‘What about you?’ I asked.
She cast me a fiery look. Then laughed. ‘What about me?’ she said. ‘Do I look like an urban terrorist to you?’
I nodded towards the door.
‘You are clutching,’ she said. ‘You think Chris is going to go around killing police officers just because I ask him to?’
She reached forward and lifted a newspaper off the coffee table. Resting the ciggie in her mouth she flicked through the pages, before she tossed it over to me.
‘If you want to question someone,’ she snapped, ‘then you can start with him.’
Anthony Norris wearing a hard-hat, campaigning somewhere that looked like a construction site.
I folded the paper on my lap.
She stared across at us both, anger in her face.
‘Is there anything else Detectives?’ she asked.
****
Cade appeared deep in thought as we went back to the car.
‘Are you’re thinking what I’m thinking?’ I said.
He looked at me across the roof. ‘Depends what that is.’
‘That all roads lead to Anthony Norris.’
‘Maybe, but you heard the boss,’ Cade said. ‘We’re to stay away from him.’
26
FRANKIE TRAILED BEHIND me, past the parade of local shops.
‘This is a bad idea,’ she said.
‘We’re here now,’ I replied.
‘Victoria’s going to kill you.’
‘She doesn’t have to know.’
Frankie pulled me back by my sleeve. ‘Yes she does’
Oh, shit. ‘Have you told her?’
She dropped her head. ‘I told Jessie. I had to. It’s a rule.’
Telling Jessie pretty much amounted to telling Victoria. Jessie acts as Victoria’s PA. So, she knew and would be pissed off big-time, us doing this without her authorisation. There’s no way she would have said yes to this. We’re re-active not pro-active.
Frankie’s a friend but I couldn’t tell if she was sorry that she had effectively snitched on me, or she was scared about what Victoria would say when she saw us. That should have bothered me, and usually it would. But not today.
Six hours had passed and Duke Best hadn’t called me. He was a frightened rabbit, certain that someone would get to him before he and I had a chance to meet up. He was convinced that someone was Anthony Norris, alleged one-time leader of the NID and now the figurehead for the One Identity political party.
He may have blood on his hands, but he makes sure he washes them thoroughly.
Castleford Arts Centre. Anthony Norris had hired it out.
Three large black suited bouncers stood just inside the door checking people’s bags. Behind them there was a poster on the wall advertising a Jack and The Beanstalk show that was starting a small run at the venue in a few days’ time.
‘I just need to check your bags please,’ one of them said to us.
Frankie handed him her handbag, and he put it on the table behind. ‘Would you open it please?’
She stepped over and unzipped it. He gingerly ran his hand over the top.
Cosmetic security.
‘Okay,’ he said, and left her to zip it back up.
He looked over at me and I raised my arms. I don’t do handbags that often.
He nodded and motioned for us to go through into the hall.
It was busier than I had expected. Perhaps a hundred or so people. Lots of blue rinse elderlies. Model citizens all. Here to take our country back. Ready to bitch about the cultural indifference in our society.
We found a couple of seats near the back, just as Anthony Norris came out onto the stage. He seemed older and tougher in the flesh. His bald head shone under the lights above him, but he had that same politicians smile. He shuffled his papers, then took a sip of water from the plastic cup he had brought onto the stage with him.
He cast a look aro
und the hall. He was trying to make eye contact with everyone. Draw them in. He smiled broadly. We’re all friends here.
He started slowly, explaining how we were all cash strapped. How the banks and the inept Governments around the world had left us in this position. He talked inflation, job insecurity, unpaid bills, rising debts.
I shifted uncomfortably on my plastic chair. He hadn’t said anything I disagreed with yet.
He talked about outsiders coming over to the UK to find work, and getting all the jobs.
The other parties will accuse me of racism. The press will paint us as another dangerous right wing party. They have their agenda. We have ours. We’re not racist. We’re practical. Brexit was just the start.
Then it was over, almost as soon as it had begun. He received loud applause. A few were even standing. He waved to us all and then exited stage left.
‘He’s good,’ I said.
‘He’s a racist arsehole,’ Frankie replied.
‘You wouldn’t know it.’ I kept my voice down as I motioned for her to get up.
‘What about all that stuff about being born in the UK to be British? A generation of minorities who don’t care about this country. If there was another world war, would these new majority of minorities fight to keep us sovereign? Did you hear all that?’
I blinked at her. Was it possible I had missed it? That I’d just been taken in by what I wanted to hear?
Frankie shook her head. She was disappointed with me.
I was disappointed with me too.
‘Follow me,’ I said pushing through the audience towards the stage. Then around the side to a narrow dank corridor leading to a barred fire exit door.
Norris was there with several of his cronies. He was gesturing wildly. No idea what it was about, but when he saw me he lowered his arms and motioned to the guy on his right.
You deal with this.
He stepped towards us, arms raised ready to move us along.
I flashed him my badge before he had a chance to say anything.
‘I need a word with Mr Norris,’ I said.
Norris was watching. His lap dog stepped aside.
‘Can I help you officer?’ he said walking towards me. His eyes narrowed as he got closer. He stood over me. A long uncomfortable silence.
‘I need to ask you a few questions.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Can I see your ID again?’
I held it up. He smiled. ‘How can I help you Detective...’ he read the ID again before looking straight back at me. ‘Dark. Surely not the same Dark that was on the news, the one that was injured in that explosion?’
‘That’s what I came to discuss,’ I said. ‘We think it was linked to the NID.’
He nodded, giving nothing away. ‘I’m glad to see you are up on your feet again, Detective, but I don’t see how I can help you. I have nothing to do with the NID which, as I understand it, is a defunct group anyway. Your colleagues smashed it up several years ago.’
‘They still have supporters out there, and ex-members on the streets.’
‘That has nothing to do with me.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Anything else, Detective?’
‘Racist attacks in the country are on the increase, your rhetoric out there encourages it.’
He waved his hand dismissively. ‘My political views have nothing to do with the murders you refer to. They weren’t even racially motivated as far as I am aware.’
He must have thought he had the upper hand. But there was method in my madness. It was why I had brought Frankie with me. I needed to give her time, keep him talking, keep his mind ticking over, get him to think about things. Things she could read.
He smiled. ‘I imagine you agree with a lot of what I say, even if you don’t admit that to yourself.’ When I didn’t answer, his smile broadened ‘I thought so.’ He looked around at his cronies checking they were listening to a master at work. ‘Detective, I just tell you how it is. We can’t control how society feels and reacts. It’s just a sign of the times.’
‘A sign of the times?’
‘Yes. Society is being pulled apart at the seams. There’s nothing binding the fabric of our society together anymore. No single identity. We’re like a quilted blanket and all the patches that make it up are held together with loose threads.’
He took a pace forward, his large figure looming over me, trying to intimidate. ‘But you didn’t come here for a sociological debate, did you Detective? So, tell me, what is it you really want from me?’
Before I had a chance to reply Frankie piped up. Frankie who had been worried about even coming, decided now was a good time to step out of the shadows.
‘Does your party have links to the NID?’
He looked over my shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’
I opened my mouth to intervene. I had given Frankie a non-speaking part only. She was supposed to be my silent partner.
She ignored Norris’ question. ‘Did you have anything to do with or know about the murders of Lloyd Tanner, Angel Tanner, Richard and Scott Hall?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Detective Dark,’ he said closing the gap between us. ‘I hope for your sake that you are who you say you are, and that you and your friend are here in an official capacity.’
I stared him down and hoped I looked more confident than I felt.
He stepped back his eyes remaining fixed on us. ‘I suggest you both leave. Now.’
I turned away and walked past Frankie. Looking back over my shoulder he held my gaze. He blinked first, turned on his heel, and walked back to his cronies.
Frankie caught up with me as I crossed the floor in front of the stage.
‘Did you read him?’ I asked.
Frankie nodded. ‘He didn’t do it. But he knows who did.’
We’d just made it back to my car when I felt my compact vibrating in my pocket. Frankie looked at me worriedly, thinking Victoria was already onto us.
She was right.
I opened it up and saw Jessie looking back at me. There were no pleasantries, and her eyes were serious.
‘Victoria wants to see you, Erin,’ she said with a formality that unnerved me. ‘Alone. Tonight.’
27
SNOW WHITE COULD have lived happily ever in a place like this. A huge beautiful mansion, with a winding front drive and garden larger than any I’d seen before.
This was Victoria’s home, lit up gorgeously on this dark night. With pink and yellow lighting reflecting back onto the house, it shone like a fairy-tale castle under the clear starry sky. I’d never been here before. I’d heard about it from the girls and had assumed they were exaggerating, but if anything, they had underplayed its opulence.
Her husband, Robert, was a multi-millionaire, heading up some financial institution in the City and several other businesses, mixing with the rich and famous. He was extravagant and was occasionally pictured in the gossip mags at some starry event, often with Victoria on his arm. But only now, seeing their beautiful home, could I really appreciate their wealth and lifestyle.
This was a different world to mine and I felt terribly out of place as I parked my Astra behind a line of Mercs, BMWs and Audis. When I opened my door I could hear jazz music drifting lazily out across the front lawn. The party was in full swing.
‘Wear a cocktail dress,’ Jessie had told me, ‘and doll yourself up. Robert’s throwing a party and you’ll need to blend in.’
Blend in, with Robert Kirkland’s millionaire friends, movers and shakers? I didn’t stand a chance and had said that to Jessie.
‘How about I see her in the morning.?’ I had suggested. ‘Why on earth would she want me there? After all, it’s not as though she can even talk to me freely if she has a lot of guests over.’
‘Victoria says it has to be tonight,’ Jessie had replied. And you don’t say no to Victoria, she didn’t need to add.
So, I’d hunted around and found a navy dress that was a little tighter than when I’d worn it a couple of year
s ago, but just about did the job and then I spent more time on my hair and make-up than I did when I last went on a date.
Now under the multi-coloured lights that lit up the house, garden and drive, I picked up my clutch bag from the passenger seat and took a deep breath to compose myself. Jessie wouldn’t tell me what Victoria wanted, but the fact that she had called me here tonight when she was throwing a party, suggested it was a big deal.
I followed an older tuxedoed guy and his much younger wife, past the parked cars that lined the long drive, up towards the large open double doors. A couple of burly bouncers, one of them with a clipboard, stood just outside. I heard the couple in front give their names and receive a satisfactory nod, before they stepped inside.
‘Good evening Ma’am, can I have your name please?’ the bouncer on the right asked me as I stepped up. I had to consciously stop myself from pre-fixing my name with Detective Sergeant.
He ran his pen down the list and for one hopeful minute I thought I wasn’t on the list and that could be my excuse to leave, come back another day when it was a little quieter.
‘Great,’ he said and smiled. ‘Have a nice evening.’ He stepped back and extended an arm to guide me inside.
I took a flute of champagne from the tray offered to me just inside the doorway. The marbled hallway was magnificent, with a huge winding staircase in the centre that led up to a mezzanine that encircled us. There were a few people milling out here, but the real noise was coming from the room on the right.
That room, I’m sure, drew an unconscious gasp from me. It was like something out of the 1920s period drama I’d been watching on TV with Sampson. A rich family living up North with more money than at the time was thought possible, living a life on a different level to the vast majority of the British public. But that was fiction, whereas this was real and now.
It was a large drawing room, with a high ceiling and an enormous chandelier in the centre. Beautiful items of furniture were laid out across the room, cream sofas, floral armchairs, oak coffee tables. Most of the seats were taken, by the rich and beautiful.
The couple who had come in just ahead of me were shaking hands and kissing a group of guests in one corner. I now realised that the short skirted wife wasn’t as young as I had thought when I was behind her earlier. Her face, although made up beautifully, gave some of the game away, the wrinkles on her neck and elbows, visible in the room’s bright light, did the rest. But I wished to God I looked like that in twenty years’ time. She had a figure to die for and as I glanced around the room, I struggled to find any woman, whatever age, that didn’t look fantastic, and any guy whose appearance and confident air didn’t exude wealth.