Inspector Peters sat back and sipped his pint. He reviewed what was going on his department and who appeared to be crowing and why that might be. 'Is there any particular aspect of co-operation that you were looking at?'
'Well, we are rounding up a lot of immigrants, farm workers and the like. Need vans and officers who can drive those vans.' He stopped and sipped his pint. Then, without looking at Peters he added, 'Officers who aren't limping at work.'
'Right.' Peters had another long draught of beer. 'Right.' He knew now what the hints were about. He considered the extent to which he could defend the indefensible. 'Surely you're not suggesting that as ranking officers we should be overseeing the relationships of those who work under us?'
'No! Perish the thought! Let them bed-hop, marry and divorce, raise families and whatever the hell else they want to do.' He paused to make sure that his meaning would be clear. 'As long as my officers, all my officers, are given what they need to do the job and come in every morning fit and well...' He paused again, 'I don't give a flying fuck what they get up to out of hours!'
Inspector Peters pursed his lips. He knew now what the score was. He indicated the empty glasses, tried to mend fences. 'Another? On me this time?'
'No, no, I'd better get going. Back to my own patch.'
Chapter Thirty-Five
DC Angel had an early start, going out to the promenade to meet Haines at the site of another dead body. This one pushed the enquiry into teenage girls into the background. The victim was male and in his forties.
They met on the promenade looking at the white scene of crimes tent. The sun had barely risen, casting long shadows out towards the sea.
'Did you know him?' DC Angel asked Haines.
DCI Haines looked shifty just for a second, then recovered his composure. 'I'm sure you've heard the phrase, known to police. Well, that was how our victim, Sean Astbury started out. He was smoking weed pretty much when he started secondary, certainly didn't see school out with a clutch of GCSEs. He graduated up from there into the local drug scene.' There was the faintest of pauses. 'We lost track of him. He started driving for Billy King as a taxi driver. Cleaned his act up. Last I heard he was a director at King Kabs.'
DC Angel looked hard at her boss. She always thought he seemed to know what was going on in his town but something felt off about all of this. How did Haines have access to a potted biography just after the victim was found and identified?
'Anyway, there's not a lot to do here so we should head back to the station. I've already requested the CCTV. At least this one was in the town centre, well covered.
Soon they were convened in a meeting room – it didn't look like this one would even need an MIT forming.
'Well, they aren't particularly bright. Not like whoever killed Mazey Taylor and Stella Evans. We've already picked them up on CCTV. They caught up with Astbury in the high street. It wasn't pretty, five on one. They kept on at him, punching; some had knives. In the end he made it as far as the promenade where he gave up the ghost. Our five suspects then went back to the station, got the last train home.'
'What were they doing here? County lines?'
'Probably.' He looked hangdog. 'If you knew what we'd done to keep Bradwick safe...' It was a completely depressing crime and thankfully relatively easy to put to bed. 'Anyway we pinged the photos over to West Midlands and they've already given us names. Really all we have to do is wait for them to come back and tell us they've made some arrests. Then we can bring them down here for interview. With all the CCTV it should just be a case of packaging it up for the CPS.'
For the rest of the afternoon, she processed the paperwork. Half of the time was spent with the phone tucked under her shoulder, talking to her counterparts in West Midlands. They were more than happy to have an excuse to get the five men arrested and handed over to someone else to prosecute.
Finally, the day was drawing to a close, so she went through to talk to Haines. 'Sir, have you got a minute?' DC Angel hovered in the doorway.
'Of course, sit down.' He gestured at a chair. 'What's on your mind?'
'Well, I've signed up a CI and from what he's said, it looks like King is involved in a lot of the drug trade around here. And now you've got a director in his company killed in a county lines operation. Is there more to this than I'm being told?'
Haines nodded. 'Your informant isn't the only one. King Kabs have that reputation.'
'And then I went back to the crime reports, looking for King's name among the known associates. Turns out even his casual drivers seem to keep their names off our records.' Even though she hadn't asked a question, she still looked at Haines as if expecting a response.
'Well, just because there's a rumour, doesn't mean there's anything behind it.'
'But you just said, sir, that everyone knows that he's involved in drugs.'
Haines leant back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. He brought his head back down to look at Angel. 'Sometimes in this job you have to play a long game.' Her heart constricted a little, she didn't want to get into the politics. 'That mugger you arrested. You got lucky there as he was known to us, wasn't really part of a gang. But a lot of these guys, low level criminals, are run by larger gangs. They'll be sent out to get wallets, bags, even shoplift, usually in return for drugs or a space in a squat. Now, if your lad was one of those, then you'd have got much further if you'd followed him and seen who he was going to hand the bag off to. Do you see what I'm getting at?'
'So, that's what you're doing? Watching King, waiting for a big chance? Following him as it were.'
Haines thought for a moment and nodded. 'There are operational reasons why we're not pouncing straight away, even though the information is there.'
DC Angel blinked once. She knew that he was lying. She couldn't say what his tell was, but she'd picked up something. She didn't think it was a huge, outright lie, but there was something she wasn't being told. 'Ah, right then, sir. Above my pay grade then. I'll leave it alone.' She thought for a moment, needed to get out of the CID office to clear her head. 'I'm just going up to the MIT room. Check on everything, see what actions need doing.'
Without waiting for a response, she went upstairs. Fortunately everything was quiet. She could let a list of actions scroll past on the computer screen while she let her thoughts run.
What was all that bullshit about the mugger and how sometimes you have to follow them? She never wanted to be the kind of police officer who would watch a crime be committed and not do anything.
She knew this was something she'd picked up from her father. He had instilled in her the importance of honour, of doing the right thing. His hatred of the police had sprung from the eighties when they had gone to war with the unions. Since then, every failure in the papers had reinforced his opinion that the police had transformed from keepers of the peace to an enemy force. She might have joined the police to spite him but she had retained his morals.
She thought of DS Maxine Jones with her business cards and immaculate image. The sort of person her father would have no business with at all. She was someone you definitely couldn't trust. She encouraged people to lie, to inform on their colleagues. All for the greater good.
She couldn't untangle whether spying on someone who was cheating the system was honourable or not. She also couldn't figure out why it mattered so much to her. She hadn't spoken to her father in over seven years so why did she care?
Anyway, there wasn't a lot she could do now – she could hardly go to Professional Standards and say that she had a vague feeling that her boss was lying about something. That he'd put himself in situations where he might be able to steal.
She had enough of chasing her thoughts around in circles. On her way back to her desk, she saw a ridiculously long list of cars on the printer. She grabbed it and put a staple in the corner.
Sitting there, she had a thought. There were no leads on the Taylor and Evans killings. They were still collecting evidence and doing house to house, but in r
eality, it was stalled. She would start putting these car details through the computer, checking for previous convictions. She could do a few every day, it might take months but then the case could easily drag on that long.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Emma found Bea Matthews easily in the tea shop. The place was a bit too chintzy and over-fussy for her but getting information over tea and biscuits was part and parcel of her job.
When the niceties were over and they had settled with their drinks and food, Bea got straight down to business. 'So, I assume that this isn't a purely social call?'
Emma assessed what she knew of Aunt Bea and decided to go straight to it. 'I wondered what you knew about King Kabs?'
'Me? Why do you think I would know anything? Surely in the police you have your own sources of information?'
'They're not bringing anything up. But the rumours don't stop either.' She paused for a moment. 'And I think I saw the owner at your barbecue.'
'Billy King? Yes, he was there. I taught him, and his wife Marnie. Mind you, that doesn't make them special, as I've said, a lot in Bradwick have passed through my school.'
'And there's nothing you can tell me about them?'
Bea sighed and looked out of the window. Eventually, she spoke, pointing out of the window to emphasise her point. 'Look out there, Emma. And then, read some Sunday supplements. All those horror stories about stabbings, legal highs, county lines, new drug crazes – all of that doesn't get here. And if it does, it doesn't take a hold. And do you know why?' Emma shook her head. 'Because of things like my barbecues. Because people who grow up here stay here. That means that all the local trades people, the business owners, the police officers, they all know each other. If it happened in London, they'd all be going on about inter-disciplinary co-operation and forming working groups.' She drew herself up and looked proud. 'But here, in Bradwick, we just get on with it.'
Emma nodded and tried to unpick what she had just been told. She knew that Bradwick was a closed shop and everyone seemed to know everyone else but she wasn't aware of how deep it went and what the implications were. 'I kind of get that but--'
'I know what you're going to say.' Bea Matthews held up a hand. 'I know I didn't really tell you anything. But it's more than I really should have. You have to understand. These people, they are your colleagues or suspects. Some might have files on your system or be witnesses in your cases.
'But to me, they are ex-pupils. I've been to their cousins' weddings, I know their children, I've even been to some of their funerals. So, I really shouldn't have said all of this anyway. You are, for all that I like you, an outsider. You've come down here really recently,' Emma bridled a bit at this, 'so it'll take a while. Maybe if you married someone local, you might start to fit in.'
Emma didn't know what to say. She could almost forgive the blatant sexism because she knew Bea was of a different generation. Slowly her irritation ebbed and she saw what she was being offered. It was clear that Bea liked her and had thrown her a line. If there wasn't outright corruption, possibly there was too much co-operation, edging into collusion.
'Thank you,' Emma said. 'I didn't really think, I just got caught up in trying to see what was going on. Of course you know all these people.'
'Just take it slow. Everything will still be here a week, a month, years from now. Some things just take a bit of time to settle in to.'
Emma just nodded and drank her tea. She was still turning over the advice in her mind. Bea had actually gone quite a long way. For a start, she hadn't said that nothing was going on. She decided to play the long game and let the conversation naturally drift into less contentious territory.
She gave her usual edited highlights of her life, moving around a lot as a child before settling with her aunt while she completed her A-levels. In return she got humorous anecdotes about Rob growing up, spending long summer holidays in Wootenshire. One summer, he had even wanted to be a detective and had trailed around with his little sister looking for crimes to solve.
Finally, she thought she might try to learn a bit more. She gently asked if Bea had ever heard of Gregory Watts.
'Ah, well now. If you've been a teacher as long as I have then you'll realise that not everyone is good. The vast majority of children you teach are lazy or hard-working, good in varying degrees, and generally try to do no harm. But once in a while one comes along who purely thinks of themselves and what they can get out of life.' She shook her head sadly.
'And that was Gregory?'
Bea nodded. 'Have you set your sights on him? I mean to investigate him, obviously.'
'I'm trying but there's not a huge amount there. He makes a living as a consultant. And he owns a range of websites that are just this side of the law.'
'You mean like pornography?'
Emma chuckled. 'Nothing so exciting. Licences for everything from driving to construction workers and bouncers.'
'How is that illegal?'
'Well, they look like the official sites, but he charges a few quid on top. He takes all your details and then passes them through to the proper government site where it all goes through. But he charges more. Every now and again someone will complain that he's copying the sites too closely.' She shrugged. 'But he just shuts them down and sets up a new one.'
'And that makes money?'
'Apparently. It's all very technical but you can pay to get further up the page on google and trick people into paying for your service.'
'And if you try to stop him?'
'Well, then he claims that he's a checking service for which he charges a fee. He's probably got a lawyer on retainer. To be honest if you had the money you could pay a teenager to do the technical stuff, and a solicitor to keep it all okay and watch the money roll in.'
Bea sighed and leant back from the table. 'It seems to me that if you have a little money put by and no morals then the opportunities are there to make it grow. I pity the poor souls who just need a certificate or licence to get a job and end up feeding his bank balance.' There was a pause as Bea sized up Emma. 'I'm glad we had this chat and I wish I could say more. I really do. Listen to me love, you hang in there. I think that you'll be really good for Rob. And for this town. It'll just take a bit of time to get embedded.'
'Thank you. I am putting roots down here. There's nowhere else I'd rather be.'
There seemed to be little else to say so Emma settled the bill and they went their separate ways. She was naturally impatient so she spent the drive home thinking over the conversation and seeing if she could find a shortcut to work out what her team were up to.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Billy King and Rob Haines sat either side of the table. Billy was slumped on his chair, hardly seeming to have the energy to raise his head.
'You got any info on who did Sean in?' King finally asked.
'It's fairly cut and dried,' Haines replied. 'But I think you already know. It's a message from our friends in Birmingham.'
'Yeah, you're right.' He shook his head. 'I'm not sure I've got the stomach for this any more. We're not talking about losing a runner in my gang. When I started out in this game, there were three of us from school, thick as thieves.' The irony was lost on Billy King. 'Me, Sean, and Tommy. We've been in this business since then, working our way up.
'He was one of my volunteers to see what was going on in the city. This probably comes straight from Pietr. I don't know how much he knows but now I'm expecting the next body to turn up. Maybe it would be better to pull them out now.'
'You can't do that! I need the information. I need the big bust before my promotion.' He paused to assess Billy King. 'And what are your options anyway? If you give up now, they'll just take over and wipe out everyone in your gang. If you let me do my thing then we can get them out of the picture permanently.' He paused briefly, then continued. 'If your other undercover guys keep their heads down for a day or two, they should be fine. The Birmingham gang will probably think they've caught the only turncoat. They'll now be
feeling a false sense of security so it should be fine. Also they'll still need contacts down here.'
'There are other options.' King seemed unconvinced. 'They've already approached me. Made me an offer. I go from running my own organisation to being a part of theirs. Obviously, I said no – I don't want to be their bagman.' He stopped for a moment to take a drink from his glass. Haines, not for the first time, regretted meeting in a pub. 'But I could go back to them. Negotiate a deal to sell out. Hand it all over to them, in return for a lump sum.'
'Come on, Billy, you're not that stupid. You know that whatever money they offered, you'd be dead before you spent even a fraction of it. Gangs like that don't leave loose ends.'
'I didn't say I'd hang around here, did I? There's a world out there and all I've ever seen is Bradwick. With money I could sell up and live somewhere else.'
'No, I don't see it.' Haines shook his head. 'You're born and bred here. You might leave, but you'd be back. Back to where someone else was running your turf.'
'You've got your promotion, why shouldn't I have mine? Go straight somewhere else?' He sounded churlish, sunk deep in his cups.
'Still don't believe it. And you'd have to convince Marnie too.' Haines paused long enough to gauge Billy's mood. He decided to push on anyway. 'Would you really sell out to the people who killed your school friend? They are the people who are trying to take your business one way or the other.'
'What should I do? Go for vengeance?' He sighed dramatically before picking up his glass. He waved it widely before continuing. 'There's a reason that people like Pietr are running big city gangs and expanding into new territory and why I've been stuck in this town for all these years. These new guys are ruthless – and if I'm honest, I'm not sure that I've got the stomach for it.'
'You've got to do something,' Haines insisted. 'Leave your men in undercover. Now Pietr has got rid of one, he'll relax, think he's solved it. You might not have the stomach for the fight, but we do. We have the resources to finish the whole gang.'
The Retirement Party Page 18