by Tim Heath
As planned, the weapon was found quite quickly, later to be proved as the murder weapon. It was carefully dropped into an evidence bag and taken off to be tested for prints. Aware that it hadn’t been a robbery as his wallet was still in his jacket’s inside pocket, they had quickly been able to identify him from his driving licence and that helped them find out that he was also a government employee.
With the crime scene now completely swept for evidence and the police satisfied that they’d got all that they needed, the tape that had sectioned off the area was taken down and the police started to leave. Within just over an hour of first receiving the call from the shocked passer-by, DCI Jack Derry was on his way back to the station when the call came over that the prints found on the gun matched those of someone on the data base. Pulling into the compound car park, Jack said he’d be right onto it.
“What do we have?” said Jack, walking at speed through the open door, always the man on a mission.
“Prints matched to a Mr Terrance Goldman,” came the reply from the young uniformed man behind his desk. “Nothing on him lately but he’s on the database because as a juvenile he’d been charged with a few indecency offences and sexual harassment. He spent some time in a Young Offenders Institute but charges couldn’t be pressed through because of his age at the time. The record shows he was a general nuisance through college but things had gone quiet over the last few years. I’ve got someone finding out what he’s doing now, though we think he’s still in the city.”
“Very good, keep me informed,” Jack said and walked off into his office. The day and week in general had been quite quiet but now there was a murder.
It was only about twenty minutes later that DCI Derry’s intercom crackled out:
“You will want to see this, sir.” Getting up straight away he walked back into the main investigation room. “He lives in London. Works at the Department of Trade and Industry which just happens to be the same place as the victim.”
“OK, I’ll take PC Chambers and get over there straight away. Send a van as well in case he’s there. Get someone to his home as well.”
“Already onto it, sir.”
Jack went back to his desk, picking up his mobile and putting his jacket on. He left in a hurry, taking PC Chambers with him and they got into his car and raced the short three miles to the offices of the Department of Trade and Industry, though with the London traffic working against them, it still took a while.
Pulling up in front of the main doors, they got out of the car and trotted through the entrance and up to the reception desk, pulling out their identification as they came, which reassured the slightly concerned girl sitting behind the desk, who’d watched their whole approach.
“Hello, can you tell us if Mr Terrance Goldman has come in today?” DCI Derry said, looking at the receptionist but turning when he heard a female voice behind him.
“Yes, follow me. I’ll show you. I’m Mary Ingham and I’m in charge of his section. Is there anything wrong?”
“At this moment we just need to talk to Terrance.” DCI Derry didn’t want to say anything more as yet. “Please lead the way.”
“Please, call him Terry.” Mary said. “Simon, his boss, once made that mistake and Terry was not at all happy, went round grumpy all day. He’s a strange man.”
“Would that be Simon Allen, by any chance?” said DCI Derry, taking the lead as always.
“Yes, do you know him?” Mary said as they got into the lift and headed for the second floor.
“No. Can you tell me if Terry came in his usual self today?”
“Yes, seemed happy. Why, what is this about?”
Just then the lift reached the floor, the distraction enough for DCI Jack Derry to say nothing. Getting out of the lift, Mary led them around to Simon’s department, pointing out Terry who sat on the left, doughnut in hand with a coffee on his desk. Terry watched them walking over, not the least bit alarmed at the sight of Mary with two strangers who were walking towards him. DCI Jack Derry put it down to the fact that the fat guy knew he couldn’t out run them so was just playing it cool, like they all tended to do.
“Terry, these men have come to see you,” Mary said, standing back out of the way a little but clearly wanting to know what all the fuss was about. The office was still relatively quiet at that moment but those that were there were all listening. Not that much excitement happened around there very often.
“I’m DCI Jack Derry and this is PC Chambers. We’ve come to ask you about Simon Allen. Have you seen him today?”
Mary looked a little alarmed, concerned about her friend Simon.
“Erm…,” Terry started, thinking in his mind about the reason why he’d taken Simon to the meeting...the lies, his own history, Brendan Charles...he couldn’t tell the truth, it was just easier to say, “No, I haven’t. Is there a problem, officer? Is Simon OK?”
But DCI Jack Derry had noticed that slight pause for thought, that moment when the eyes give away the fact you are thinking hard about the answer, not because you are trying to remember but because you are thinking through the consequences of each possible response. He’d seen it a hundred times and it always proved there was something they were hiding. In this case, it was the fact that he’d murdered his boss. Why he had he wasn’t yet sure but knew that they’d find out soon enough. Reaching for the hand cuffs in his right pocket he said:
“Terry Goldman, I’m arresting you for the murder of Simon Allen. You do not have to say anything but what you do say may be used in evidence against you.” There was a gasp from Mary to their right, who stood with her hand to her mouth, shock setting in.
Terry looked startled, completely caught off guard. PC Chambers helped to put the cuffs on and he started to lead him away.
“I think you’d better come with us as well, please,” DCI Jack Derry said to Mary, who followed on slowly behind, as all eyes in the quiet office suddenly focused on Terry, all stunned at what they’d just witnessed.
Chapter 9
Tommy Lawrence had just finished his first training session with his new set of players. He had been introduced to them earlier, going around to each player in turn, shaking their hand and spending a couple of minutes getting to know them a little, it had seemed to break down their resistance somewhat. Having done so, Tommy could feel the atmosphere change, it was more fun and relaxed, whereas before there had been some hesitancy, almost tension in the air. For the players themselves the last week had been a difficult one. The previous manager, though unsuccessful, was still well liked. Therefore just coming in fresh, his inexperience aside, at first made him an unwelcome commodity. The fact was that no one, especially professional football players, liked change. Tommy was aware that one or two of the more experienced players, who had worked with the former manager much longer, would take much more winning over. Tommy knew that if this was not possible they’d have to go, being sold to another team to finish their career. He wouldn’t want this to happen too quickly though; it would only unsettle the rest of the team.
Sitting twelfth in the English Championship, the second tier of English football, Nottingham Forest had a long way to go if they were to push hard for promotion that year, which was what was now expected of them, not only by the owners but also the supporters and media experts. Tommy hoped to be able to persuade several players to join them and not being restrained by a transfer window, he hoped that the money that should now be flowing could be put to good use, as long as he was able to convince the player that an apparent step down in level was the best career move for them. Tommy felt if he talked openly about this it would only further unsettle the squad so he kept it to himself. He was keen to build much stronger relationships with the current players as well, in order to have a real handle on the dressing room and this would be something he’d work hard on over his first few weeks.
Leaving the lads to get changed ready for lunch he walked back to the building. Getting back to his office he was glad that things had gone reasonably
well, with the existing coaching staff having taken most of the morning’s session. Tommy sat down at his desk and continued to work through the papers which Brendan had given him. There had been a number of very young players he’d been told by Brendan that he was going to sign for the club and each of these players was finely detailed, in what he was now reading. Tommy was still feeling quite put out by what he saw as Brendan’s intrusion, but he read the reports anyway with some interest, trying to see what he could find out. Getting to the end of the report he dropped the sheets onto his desk and sat back deep into his chair, looking to the ceiling, the revolving fan spinning away above him.
‘So what’s the big deal?’ he thought, standing up now and pacing around his office, something he always liked to do when he was thinking things through. ‘What do these sixteen, seventeen and eighteen year-old kids have that I couldn’t go out and buy from any division? Why do they seemingly only want to go this way anyway, taking the long term route? Surely there needs to be immediate success here and promotion to the Premiership in order to satisfy the owners?’ Outside work had started on the main gates, which Tommy now spotted from his window, smiling to himself for a moment. A fresh thought came to mind that made him pace around even faster. ‘If I’m meant to go down the youngsters route then I want to get Clint Powers’, referring to a lad that had been about fifteen when Tommy had last seen him playing at his old team which he’d been managing. Powers had been a real talent then, Tommy had loved taking him under his wing and Clint had really valued the input. Now nearly twenty, Powers was on the books of Manchester United but was still awaiting their full-time professional contract offer, though this wouldn’t be far away. Powers had had some games for the England Under 19’s side but a few unfortunate injuries had delayed any further progress for the time being as well as the deal with Manchester United.
Tommy was an impulsive man and fresh from the reminder about Powers he was back at his desk, picking up the phone. He struggled to remember the number at first for a former contact, finally tapping it out on the phone at the third attempt. He left a rather garbled message stating that he really wanted to speak to Powers’ agent and could they have him contact him at the earliest opportunity. Now smiling to himself as he sat back down, he was proud of his own piece of good work. As good as any of Brendan’s potentials might be, when it came to players, Tommy knew Clint Powers was going to be right up there at the top one day and getting one in there without the aid of Brendan would make it even more satisfying for him.
New players aside though, Tommy knew that there was a lot of work to do with the existing set up at the club and he relished the task. There was already quite a good group of late-teens and early twenties at the club who showed some promise and Tommy liked the prospect of working with them. He knew in a short time that at least they would have respect for him. Their loyalty wasn’t as strongly linked with the previous manager, having only worked with him for a small amount of time.
At about mid-afternoon, Brendan called and was put through to Tommy straight away.
“So Tommy, how are things?”
“Very good, thank you, Brendan,” he said, never having addressed Brendan by his first name before but now acting as if his elevation to a football manager had made him more level with him. Brendan was a little taken aback by his arrogance but let it ride, for now.
“I’ve had contact made on all ten of those youngsters I mentioned to you.”
“You don’t hold back, do you!” Tommy said, genuinely impressed that Brendan was following through with things. He continued, “Regarding these players, I was wanting…,” before Brendan cut in.
“It’s not about what you want now, is it! It’s about what I want you to do. Is that clear, Mr Lawrence?” Brendan stressed his name strongly, underlining the fact that he was still Tommy’s boss and it was he that called the shots. Tommy held his tongue for a second to work out what he’d say in reply to such a statement. Brendan didn’t give him the chance though, moving things on himself.
“How are the existing players behaving for you?”
“I’ve got everything under control, if that’s what you mean.” Tommy now felt he was walking on dodgy ground. “I had the first session with them this morning. One or two of them resent me being around I think but I’ll just have to work on them or get rid of them. I do have that choice, don’t I?” The question, with all its sting, hung in the silence for a moment.
“Relax, Tommy, you’ll get to play the manager.”
‘Play the manager,’ Tommy thought to himself. ‘Who does this guy think he is!’ Aware what must be going through Tommy’s head, enjoying the fact all this would be making his blood boil a little, Brendan continued.
“See it like I’m just helping you along the way. If any of our existing players don’t fit then you can sell them, of course. You are the manager and I will let you do that. As discussed already money will be made available for some transfers but I can’t underline the fact enough that the way through is to be youth. You aren’t likely to attract any top players to the club anyway while struggling in your division, are you?” Brendan had made his point. Tommy felt fully put in his place. Remembering about Clint Powers again, he thought he’d remind Brendan Charles that he wasn’t completely hopeless, which is how he now felt.
“Yeah, on that point, sir, I’ve been pulling some strings and think I have a shot at getting one of England’s best young players to join us,” being a little creative in his description of how far he’d actually got in the matter as well as in the player’s ability.
“His name is Clint Powers and currently he is on the books at Manchester United.”
Brendan knew relatively little about football but had heard the name before. Powers hadn’t been on the list which Nigel Gamble had given him, the names that did appear meaning nothing at all to Brendan. Indeed, some of the lads they’d found were only playing pub football at that time and one wasn’t even in a team at all. Brendan knew he’d have to check about Powers with Nigel.
“I’ll come back to you on that one Tommy, don’t do anything about it yet!”
“Hold on a minute, Mr Charles.” Tommy’s frustration was fully showing now. “I am the manager here, correct? If I want this lad, who I’m quite sure would be happy to play for me again and if I can get him, then I will, OK? I respect you and am grateful that you have given me this opportunity. I’m glad that you have been able to bring in some more younger players which I’ll try and get the best out of in the long term. But the bottom line is that you put me here to do a job, isn’t that true? And how am I meant to do my job if I have to run everything through, and I don’t mean to be rude, someone who knows next to nothing about football!” Tommy was fuming, practically spitting out his words now, but even he knew he had maybe gone too far. Brendan was rather calmer in his reply than Tommy had feared though.
“You do as I say and show me the respect I deserve and then just maybe I’ll let you get what you want above all things.”
“And how do you have the slightest idea as to what I want?” Tommy said, shaking his head in disbelief at what he was hearing though somewhat calmer now himself.
“Oh, I know what you want Tommy.”
“Yeah, really? Well, would you mind enlightening me as I’m all ears. What is it you think I need so badly then?”
“I think it’s more a case of who you want than what, isn’t it!” Tommy went silent, his pulse slowing, suddenly completely calm as he waited for Brendan to continue.
“If you toe the line for me and just do your job, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll make everything right for you with the one girl you’ve never been able to forget.”
“Jessica!” Tommy breathed out gently in one sudden rush, the name sounding so precious to him now, as if revealing a dark secret which had been locked away deep within his soul.
“Miss Jessica Ponter of course! Your one and only.” With that Brendan ended the conversation, putting the phone down at that moment for a
more dramatic effect, leaving Tommy reeling.
‘How the…,’ Tommy started to think but then stopped. Anything seemed possible for Brendan, even something as stupid as that. But Brendan had been right of course. She was the only thing in the world he wanted most. How he’d changed since that moment that he’d first met her. Before that it was only football. The position he was now in would have been his ultimate desire just four or five years ago, but that had all changed with Jessica. His world had not been the same since he’d got back from that Academy weekend to find that she had gone, out of his life forever without even a goodbye. Brendan had helped him then through the toughest parts, but only now the thought developed that maybe Brendan Charles knew more about things than he’d previously made out. Had Brendan been the snake in the grass who had told Jessica about what had happened? Tommy’s one big stupid mistake which he’d never forgiven himself for. He’d have to shelve those new thoughts about Brendan for the time being though. If Brendan really could make things right again and offer him a second chance with Jessica then he would do anything to make that possible. He’d even be a puppet manager, if that is what it took, having someone else pulling his strings while he tried his best to pick up the pieces and keep things at the club on track.
**********
At the police station, Terry Goldman sat in his processing cell bemused, shocked and puzzled. Not only was Simon Allen dead, but he’d been arrested for his apparent murder. He sat there processing everything. What should he say about the meeting, having already told them he hadn’t seen Simon that morning? It wouldn’t sound very good now to admit he’d lied.
Outside in the main investigation room they were trying to further piece things together. A team of five police officers were at Terry’s home where they had been for over two hours looking for clues.