Informant

by Susan Wilkins

  ‘You still trying to persuade me what a friendly, funny bloke you are?’

  Bradley sighed. ‘No I’ve accepted I’m crap at that.’

  Kaz eyed him speculatively. ‘Maybe not totally. Once this is over, fancy buying me a cup of coffee?’

  Bradley stared at her in disbelief. His brain was scrambling to catch up. Had he missed something? Was she being serious? He didn’t have to paint on the smile, it surfaced naturally.

  ‘Yeah. Of course.’

  Kaz nodded. ‘Shut your mouth Bradley. You look like a teenage boy who’s copped off for the first time.’

  36

  Bradley bought two take-away coffees and they wandered into Russell Square. There was a smattering of people and pigeons all enjoying the afternoon sunshine. They found an empty bench and sat down a decorous foot apart. Bradley wasn’t sure what had caused Kaz Phelps to perform such a volte-face. But he decided to play along with her and see how things panned out.

  Back in the studio Kaz had been the last one to have her work reviewed by Mike and the group. Everyone had just stood round and gawped. It didn’t require much expertise to see that she was streets ahead of any other student in the class. The compliments flooded in. Kaz received them awkwardly. She wasn’t used to praise, certainly not in a setting like this.

  Mike Dawson scanned the dozen or so drawings Kaz had displayed and rubbed the stubble on his chin. Then when the rest of the students dispersed to chat and drink the wine and beer he strolled over to her. He pulled a rather dog-eared business card from his back pocket and fixed her with his direct and penetrating gaze.

  ‘You still got a lot to learn, you know that, don’t you?’ Kaz nodded. ‘But you’ve got a rare talent.’ He handed her the card. ‘Keep in touch. If I can do anything to help you on your way, I will.’ And with a curt nod he went off to pour himself a glass of wine.

  Bradley sipped his coffee and glanced at Kaz.

  ‘So what did Mike say to you at the end?’

  ‘Nothing much.’ Kaz lounged on the bench.

  Bradley laughed. ‘Bullshit. I may be crap at drawing, but I’m quite a good detective and that man thinks you’re the dog’s bollocks. The way he looked at your stuff was totally different to how he looked at anyone else’s.’

  ‘Yeah well you don’t have to keep buttering me up, because I’ve decided to help the police.’

  Bradley gave her a scrutinising look. ‘Okay. What’s brought this on?’

  ‘I dunno. Maybe I do want my life to be different.’

  He nodded. ‘Have you and Joey fallen out?’

  Kaz took a deep breath. ‘What I’m offering you doesn’t concern Joey. This is about my cousin Sean Phelps.’

  Bradley tilted back his head and smiled. Now it all made sense. ‘I see. You want to give us Sean. Not Joey.’

  ‘Basically yeah.’

  He began to chuckle. ‘I know you think we’re all plods, especially me. But come on Karen, we’re not totally daft.’

  Kaz gave him a blank, cold stare. ‘I dunno what you mean.’

  Bradley shook his head, but he was still smiling. ‘Okay, let’s try this for size. Sean gets out of jail. He’s been away for a goodly stretch, meanwhile your dad’s had a stroke and Joey’s taken over the firm. But Joey’s young and ambitious, he’s not about to step aside for Sean. So you and your brother have cooked up a neat little scheme to send Sean straight back to jail. Am I warm?’

  Kaz looked straight at Bradley. The cheeky smile had been packed away, his expression was deadly serious. She acknowledged his point with a tilt of the head. ‘Yeah. But that’s only part of the story.’

  ‘Okay, I’m listening.’

  She sipped her coffee, then turned to Bradley. ‘Y’know Sean shot a copper and got off.’

  ‘I’ve heard that, yeah.’

  ‘Well it’s true. When it happened, years ago, I heard him boasting to my old man about it.’

  ‘And you’re gonna get up in court now and say that?’

  Kaz inclined her head to one side. ‘No, you’re gonna need more than one bit of testimony to get Sean tried for that murder.’

  Bradley sighed. ‘So what are you offering?’

  ‘We both know that by rights Sean should still be in jail. He’s a murderer.’

  ‘So’s Joey.’

  Kaz inhaled sharply as she tried to keep a handle on her exasperation. ‘I’m not gonna give you Joey. You can have Sean or nothing – that’s the choice. That’s still a result for you and your smarmy boss, innit?’

  ‘I’ll have to put it to him. So let’s get down to the nitty-gritty. If you’re not going to testify, presumably you’re going to set him up. How?’

  ‘I’m not gonna go into that now. But y’know Sean’s business has always been drugs and that’s what he’s getting back into.’

  Bradley shook his head dismissively. ‘So all you’re really offering us is a drugs bust?’

  Kaz stared in disbelief. ‘Fuck me, whad’you expect Bradley?’ She spat the words at him. ‘You know why I want Sean back in jail? Well, I’ll tell you. I was ten years old when he started to come after me, touching me up, trying to kiss me. You grow up round men like him and my old man, you know if you don’t give ’em what they want, they’ll beat the shit out of you. Every time he come round to my parents’ house, he’d find the opportunity to grab me, take me in the garden or upstairs and fuck me. When that bastard went down I thought it was the best day of my life. I’m doing this for me, not for Joey.’

  She turned her head away, she didn’t want Bradley to see the tears. They both sat in silence for several moments, then he patted her shoulder, gently, unobtrusively.

  ‘I’ll talk to Turnbull.’

  37

  Turnbull sat in his high-backed leather chair, a panorama of London rooftops framed in the window behind him. Mayhew’s tubby frame was crammed into one of the chairs facing the desk, Bradley sat in the other. Turnbull rubbed his eyes, glanced at his phone, picked up his fountain pen and started to turn it over, end to end, repeatedly.

  ‘How many weeks have you been on this Bradley? And this is the best you can come up with?’

  Bradley was mesmerized by the pen, the barrel was marbled, it had a gold clip. He had to drag his eyes away.

  ‘I think the thing is sir, we should regard this as a way in. She’ll have become our chiz. We get one Phelps back behind bars and we gain her trust. That gives us something to work with. It’s a win-win situation.’

  Turnbull pushed the chair back in disbelief. ‘She tells you some sob story about being raped as a kid and you fall for it. This is Joey trying to eliminate the competition. She’s playing you.’

  Bradley jutted his chin out. ‘With all due respect, I don’t think so. If Joey wanted rid of Sean, I think he’d take him out. This isn’t Joey’s style, it’s coming from her.’

  Turnbull sighed, glanced at Mayhew. ‘What are we going to do with him Bill? Boy’s had his head turned.’

  Mayhew ran a thumb round his belt, easing the pressure on his paunch. He agreed with Bradley, it was an opening, he couldn’t really fathom why the boss was so dead against it. ‘Maybe. But we could play along, see what she is prepared to give us.’

  Turnbull slapped his palm firmly on the desk. ‘No. I think we need to apply a bit of lateral thinking here.’ He pondered. ‘What this gives us potentially is leverage.’

  Bradley shot a covert glance at Mayhew, who blinked a couple of times, he was looking rather sleepy. Turnbull was back to twiddling his pen, his eyes were focused off into the near distance, he seemed to be plotting. After a moment or two he zeroed back in on Bradley. ‘Presumably you recorded the conversation you had with her?’

  It was standard practice, Bradley knew it. His heart sank.

  ‘No . . . I, er . . .’

  Turnbull gave him a withering look.

  ‘Sorry sir, I didn’t really get the chance.’

  ‘Well, she’s not to know that, is she? You think she’s frightened
of Sean Phelps.’

  ‘Probably. She certainly hates him.’

  Turnbull got up from his desk, put his hands in his trouser pockets and started to jingle the change.

  ‘Right, this is what I want you to do. You go back to her and tell her that you made a digital recording of the conversation you had and Sean Phelps will be getting a copy unless she agrees to inform against her brother.’

  Bradley’s jaw slackened, he glanced at Mayhew for support. ‘Is that . . . strictly ethical sir?’

  Turnbull laughed out loud. ‘Who do you think we’re dealing with here? These are violent organized criminals. I don’t give a toss about the ethics of it. Anyway, what d’you think she’s going to do? Take us to the IPCC?’

  ‘Her lawyer might.’

  ‘Then you’d better hope, Bradley, that you’re right and she is shit-scared of Sean Phelps.’

  Bradley sighed. The more encounters he had with the boss, the more he regretted his chosen course. Turnbull was staring right at him but Bradley managed to hold his gaze.

  ‘What am I supposed to tell the Assistant Commissioner? That you’ve had an attack of conscience?’ Turnbull shook his head. ‘You knew what was being asked of you at the outset. Civil liberties and ethics are fine on the telly – unfortunately the likes of Joey Phelps don’t subscribe to that code.’

  Bradley took a deep breath. This time he wasn’t about to be cowed by Turnbull. ‘Yeah, but we’re talking Karen Phelps here, not her brother. Sir.’

  Turnbull settled back in his chair, placed his fingertips together and smiled. ‘Really. They’re so different, are they? Cop killer, convicted felon. I told you at the outset, this is policing at the sharp end.’

  ‘I know sir, but—’

  Turnbull gave the desk another dramatic thwack. Mayhew could see he was enjoying himself. It was clearly a charade, what Mayhew couldn’t figure was what lay behind it all. Why was he bullying Bradley like this? It wasn’t his usual style, Turnbull was far too slick an operator. The boss had another agenda, that much was obvious.

  Turnbull fixed Bradley with an unremitting stare. ‘I’ve heard enough. Just be a good lad and go out there and do what you’re told.’

  ‘You want me to threaten her. In effect blackmail her?’

  ‘I don’t want Sean, I want Joey. That clear enough for you?’

  38

  The flat was in Limehouse and modest compared to Joey’s. It had two separate balconies overlooking the river and was part of a portered development on Narrow Street with underground parking and a gym. The agent, Hayley, was a lizard-eyed blonde in her forties and canny enough to hang back and let the place sell itself. Joey opened the French doors and stepped out on to one of the balconies while Kaz stood bathed in airy sunlight in the large open-plan reception room. She already knew where she’d put her easel.

  Hayley joined Joey on the balcony. The sweep of the river was before them, a rippling metallic sheet of water curving south round Limehouse Reach. She scanned his profile, ticking the boxes: young, affluent, worked out, expensively dressed, Rolex Oyster, and she’d clocked the Range Rover Evoque they’d arrived in. She had him pegged as a City boy. Her guess was a new relationship and he’d just got his bonus.

  She put on her professional smile. ‘Speaks for itself really, doesn’t it?’

  Joey nodded.

  ‘I think you two could be very happy here. Lots of young couples like you in the block. Good bars, restaurants, all on your doorstep.’

  Joey turned towards her with a grin. Hayley caught the full force of his keen blue eyes.

  ‘Flat’s not for me, it’s for my sister. She needs somewhere right away.’

  Hayley was momentarily thrown. She’d read them as a couple and she didn’t usually get these things wrong. ‘Well, it’s the perfect buy for a single woman. Very secure. Once contracts have been exchanged, she could be in in a matter of weeks.’

  Joey inclined his head. ‘Nah, she needs a place now.’

  Hayley blinked at him. ‘Obviously we’d do all we could to expedite . . .’

  He held up his palm. ‘Nah, while the lawyers sort out the paperwork, she moves in. In the meantime she pays rent.’

  ‘I’m not sure that would be possible Mr Phelps. The vendors would never—’

  ‘But you’ll persuade them, won’t you Hayley? ’Cause then you’ll be picking up a five grand cash bonus, which no one need know about ’cept you and me.’

  Hayley fixed him with a look of frank amazement. ‘You’ll be paying the asking price?’

  Joey nodded. ‘I don’t quibble over a few quid. My sister’s had a rough time lately. I want to make things easy for her.’

  Hayley pondered. The only other people interested in the flat had offered twenty thousand under the asking price. She wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She scanned his amiable, smiling face. She still couldn’t quite figure it.

  ‘Wish I had a brother like you.’ She took out her mobile. ‘I’ll go and make some calls.’

  Joey rejoined Kaz, she was wandering from the main bedroom into the en suite. ‘Whad’you reckon babes?’

  Kaz turned to him, she had the look of a kid in a sweetshop. ‘Well it’s a step up from my old gaff. No steel pan in the corner, or bars on the windows.’

  Joey tipped his head to one side. He was trying to appear nonchalant, but Kaz could feel his excitement. He loved playing the benefactor; the power of money, serious money, that was his second favourite buzz.

  ‘Move in in a couple of days if you like it.’

  ‘Seriously? I thought this was for sale, not rent. Don’t that take longer?’

  A smile flickered round his lips as he savoured the moment. ‘Yeah, but I’ve fixed all that.’

  She reached her arms round his neck and gave him a hug. He beamed with pleasure. ‘Lawyers’ll put it in your name. All above board, like I said.’

  She kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you little brother.’

  ‘It’s only what you’re owed.’

  She patted his arm. ‘Plenty of people think they’re owed.’

  ‘You mean like fucking Sean?’

  ‘Well, I’m on the case with that.’

  Joey gave her an enquiring look. ‘Yeah? What’s the plan?’

  Kaz hadn’t wanted to tell him anything until it was all set up. But on the other hand she didn’t want him to think she was being cagey.

  ‘Early days, but I’ve had a word with the copper that they’ve had following me about.’

  Joey shook his head. ‘Sean’s a crafty old bastard. They can watch him all day long, ain’t about to catch him with his fingers in the till.’

  Kaz looked at him and considered her options. Should she say something? He was in a good mood, so what the hell. They had to have this discussion sometime.

  ‘Thing is Joey, the old bill ain’t daft. They know we want him out the way. If we’re gonna give them Sean, he has to be wrapped up in a tasty enough package to tempt them.’

  ‘How d’you mean?’

  ‘Okay, this is only an idea. We give Sean one of the cannabis factories.’

  Joey stared at her gone out. ‘What? You know how much investment I put into them?’

  Kaz nodded. ‘Yeah, but it’ll be worth it to get shot of Sean. You transfer the lease to some shell company that can be easily traced back to him. Let him get his feet under the table, doing business, feeling secure. One day old bill just walk in. Big drugs bust, they’re happy. He’s back in jail for at least another ten.’

  Joey absorbed this, exhaled.

  ‘Still expensive.’

  ‘I know but . . .’

  Kaz stopped in her tracks as Hayley came bustling in; she was all smiles.

  ‘I’ve spoken to the vendor.’ He was a small-time buy-to-let landlord hit by the recession and desperate to offload the place to stave off bankruptcy. When Hayley had told him she’d got the asking price, he was over the moon. The rest was easy. ‘He’s accepted your offer. And, since the place is
empty, he’s happy to facilitate an early move. My office can draw up a short-term lease that you can sign today. Then you can move in.’

  Joey glanced at Kaz, raised his eyebrows. ‘Well? Wanna do it?’

  Kaz giggled like a kid. All thoughts of Sean had evaporated. ‘Yeah!’ She spun round, the white walls, the big windows, whirled past her. After all these years, her own place with her own front door. A door she could lock from the inside. She drank it all in, it was heady stuff.

  Hayley held out her hand. Kaz took it and they shook on the deal. Hayley was thinking of that juicy cash bonus, the easiest five grand she’d ever earned. She flicked a covert glance at Joey and smiled.

  ‘Everybody wins.’

  39

  Kaz went furniture shopping with a company credit card provided by Joey. The name on the card was someone she’d never heard of, but Joey assured her it was all above board. The card wasn’t stolen or cloned, the company was entirely legit and the card holder fronting it worked for his accountants. She was indeed the company secretary as it said on the card and very well paid for her services.

  As Kaz strolled in and out of various furniture stores on Tottenham Court Road she tried on her temporary identity for size. Alice Ogilvy – it had an unmistakably posh ring to it. She walked through several shops, browsing and pretending to be Alice Ogilvy. Then she wandered into Heal’s; she sensed it was the kind of place Alice would feel comfortable.

  As she drifted through the bed department, a young sales assistant homed in on her, his smile polite and deferential.

  ‘If I can be of any help madam, do let me know.’

  Kaz smiled back at him, a twenty-something boy on a shop worker’s wage, no different to her in many ways. But they were both playing a game. She adopted a slightly bored expression.

  ‘I’ve been working out in Dubai for the last five years, just come back and bought a flat in Limehouse. I need to furnish it.’

  The boy’s eyes lit up, it had been a slow week, his sales figures were crap and the manager was on his case. He straightened his drooping shoulders, painted on a look of enthusiasm. ‘Well, a bed is a very good place to start madam. Queen or king size?’