by John Dean
‘Do you know, you are starting to sound like my mother. Or, as I like to call her, the babysitter.’
* * *
Within twenty minutes, the detectives had arrived at the city’s terminal, the inspector parking in the private car park used by the Port Police. Ushered up to the control tower by one of the Port officers, he and Colley stood and surveyed the scene stretching out in front of them. The quayside was virtually deserted, the tarmac glistening from the drizzle that had started to die out as the early evening sun broke through the cloud again. Staring out of the window, the inspector could see a large ferry docked at one of the main berths; he assumed the vessel was bound for one of the Dutch ports. Beyond the ferry stretched the dark waters of the Haft, their surface peppered with the raindrops that had suddenly started to fall harder. A rainbow started to form on the far bank; it had been like this all summer.
‘There they are,’ said the Port Officer, pointing to a line of people emerging from below the tower, clutching suitcases and holdalls. ‘They’ll be heading for Entrance Number 2.’
The officer handed Blizzard a pair of binoculars and the inspector scanned the people now snaking across the tarmac.
‘Fourth from the back,’ he said, passing the glasses to Colley.
Colley stared down at the burly shaven-headed man in the jeans and black leather jacket. The man carried a suitcase and had a knapsack slung over his shoulder.
‘Yeah, I reckon that’s him,’ said the sergeant.
‘So how do you want to play it?’ asked the Port Officer. ‘I can’t delay the departure of the ferry, I am afraid. It’s already running fifteen minutes late.’
‘No need to,’ said Blizzard. ‘Let’s lift him now. I’ve got a couple of uniforms on the gate in case he makes a break for it.’
‘I’ve got a couple of bodies at the barriers as well,’ said the officer leading the detectives down the gloomy stairwell and pushing his way out onto the tarmac. ‘Between us, we should catch chummy.’
Once they were out, the officer led the detectives towards the line of passengers.
‘Lawrence Gaines!’ shouted Blizzard.
Gaines whirled round and gave a cry of alarm. Before any of the officers could react, he had started to run, hurling away his suitcase and barging past startled passengers as he sprinted towards the exit gate. Colley gave chase, the sergeant covering the ground rapidly to hurl himself into a rugby tackle, grabbing hold of the fleeing man’s legs and sending him crashing to the floor. Gaines lay winded for a moment then lashed out with his right boot, catching the sergeant in the stomach. Colley groaned and staggered backwards. Gaines leapt to his feet and advanced on the detective, fist raised. Colley, temporarily winded, held up an arm to protect himself.
‘I wouldn’t do that, Lawrie,’ said Blizzard, running up and trying not to breathe too heavily. ‘You are in enough trouble as it is.’
‘I ain’t done nothing,’ said Gaines, lowering his hand.
‘There’s folks as might think otherwise. And I tend to be a little suspicious of suspects who try to run for it.’
All the fire went out of Gaines and he shook his head in defeat and reached down to the sergeant. Colley flinched but Gaines offered him a helping hand to his feet.
‘Sorry, mate,’ said Gaines as the sergeant robbed his sore stomach. ‘I panicked.’
Colley looked ruefully at him then produced a pair of handcuffs from his pocket.
‘They won’t be needed,’ said Gaines. ‘You’ll get no trouble from me. Time to finish this nonsense once and for all.’
Chapter thirteen
As Lawrie Gaines sat opposite the two officers in the interview room at Abbey Road later that evening, his demeanour retained the overwhelming impression of someone who was glad that his ordeal had come to an end. Surveying him, Blizzard and Colley sensed that here was a man who had reached the end of his tether, his dishevelled appearance and unshaven features suggesting that he had not been home for several days.
‘So where have you been?’ asked Blizzard.
‘Dossed on a friend’s floor a couple of nights, spent last night on a park bench.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Blizzard, glancing down at the ferry ticket on the desk, ‘you would like to explain why you were trying to board a boat to The Netherlands? Going on your holidays? Fancied visiting a flower festival?’
‘It’s not what you think.’
‘Not just me thinking it, Lawrie. The cynics among us might surmise that you were trying to get away after killing Billy Guthrie.’
‘Yeah, I’ve heard the talk but I didn’t do him. Honest.’
‘So, if you are innocent, why flee?’ asked the sergeant.
‘I panicked. Roly reckoned that with Archie dying, you would think I had a good reason to kill him. Said the best thing to do was lie low for a while.’
‘Such a public-spirited citizen,’ murmured Blizzard. ‘Where were you on Friday night?’
‘That when Guthrie was killed?’
Blizzard nodded.
‘I was in a boozer,’ said Gaines. ‘The Crown in Raglan Street. Got in there about two in the afternoon. It was a mate’s birthday.’
‘Can anyone vouch for that?’
‘The landlord – mind, it was a lock-in so he might not welcome you asking the question. Your lot can back my story up as well.’
‘Why?’
‘Because my mate got rat-arsed and started a fight with another lad. Landlord kicks both of them out and it carries on in the street, so your lot came and nicked them both. Don’t know the name of the other bloke but my mate is called Shaun. Shaun Travis. Last time I saw him, he was being driven away in a paddy wagon. One of your lot asked me for my name – I told him I was Jonny Hallam or something. I don’t remember exactly, I’d had a few.’
‘And why give a false name?’ asked the inspector.
‘Not a great time to be called Lawrie Gaines.’
‘And what time was all this?’ asked Blizzard.
‘The kebab shop was closed, I know that. Two thirty, three.’
‘I’ll get someone to check it,’ said Colley, leaving the room.
‘So,’ said Blizzard when the sergeant had gone, ‘your brother died three weeks ago, I think?’
‘Yeah.’ The smile faded. ‘He’d been bad for a couple of weeks. The medical people at the home said he’d contracted some kind of virus. We’d been there before – two or three times they prepared me for the worst but he pulled through. You wouldn’t think it to look at him but he was a tough kid was our Archie.’
‘Why was he over there, why not somewhere in Hafton?’
‘The General recommended it. The doctors said it specialised in those kinds of cases.’
‘What kind of cases?’
‘He suffered brain damage when Guthrie attacked him. Hadn’t shown at the time but it did when the swelling went down. Then when he had the stroke, it was such a shock.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘A real shock. It did for my dad. I was there when he died, all he could talk about was Archie. It was like I didn’t exist.’
Blizzard sought for a sense of bitterness in the comment but found nothing.
‘And you were there when your brother died as well?’ he asked.
‘I got a call the night before,’ said Gaines, tears glistening in his eyes. ‘Got there for his last few hours. Roly drove me over. He’s a good friend is Roly.’
‘Maybe he is – but he was also Guthrie’s coach when Archie was injured. I don’t understand how you can even talk to him.’
‘Don’t get me wrong, Mr Blizzard, for a long time I blamed Roly for what happened but in time I felt different. And I think he felt guilty that his fighter had done that to Archie. I think that’s why Roly used to drive me over to the home. Make up for things. But think about it – Roly Turner was a respected coach, he’d trained some really good fighters in his time. Would he really have risked throwing all that away if he had known what Guthrie was going to do? I don’t think so.’
‘But he did know that Eddie Gayle had money on Guthrie to win. Money changes everything.’
‘Lots of punters had lots of money on lots of things that night,’ said Gaines. ‘That’s the nature of the game. No one did anything wrong. Well, no one apart from Guthrie.’
‘Not even Eddie Gayle?’
‘I ain’t saying nothing about him.’
‘Why do people clam up when I mention that name?’ asked Blizzard.
‘I ain’t scared of him.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
‘Look,’ said Gaines. ‘Things have moved on. I have moved on. Yes, there was a time when I would have killed Guthrie, but I’ve changed. I’m older. Got a girlfriend and a babby. Got myself responsibilities. Got the chance to do something with my life. Archie never had that chance and I ain’t going to throw it away.’
‘Maybe not,’ said Blizzard, fixing him with a stare. ‘But was there ever a time when you did try to kill Guthrie?’
The question hung in the air for a few moments and Gaines, who had retained eye contact throughout the conversation, glanced away.
‘Well,’ said Blizzard, ‘did you try?’
‘Yeah,’ said Gaines quietly, ‘yeah, I tried.’
It was early evening when Billy Guthrie arrived at the boxing club and sought out Roly Turner, ignoring the silent stares from all the other fighters, stares that mixed revulsion with fear. If they did not know before that you did not mix with Billy Guthrie, they sure as hell did now. The fighter’s bruised and gashed face told its own story. But the boxers also knew that he had broken the code that bound them all together, that at the end of the day they were all fighters together, that nothing was worth dying for. It was one of Roly Turner’s mantras when bringing on the young boxers. What Billy Guthrie had done the previous evening had changed all that. No one wanted to be seen with Billy Guthrie now.
Scanning the faces, Guthrie noticed the silent figure of Lawrie Gaines, standing over by one of the punchbags, watching him with the fire livid in his eyes. Guthrie said nothing but the merest of smiles played on his lips.
‘You’ve got a nerve,’ said Turner, emerging from the office and surveying the fighter’s bruised and gashed face.
‘I’ve got as much right as anyone to be here.’
‘Like hell you do, Billy, they are going to throw the book at you and someone said the cops have been called in. I don’t want no part of that. I’ve got my licence to think of.’
‘Like I care,’ said Guthrie.
‘What’s more,’ said Turner, lowering his voice, ‘Eddie Gayle and his boys are still looking for you and I don’t want no part of that, Billy. They’ve been here three times.’
‘What did you tell them?’
‘That I didn’t know where you were but it’s spooking people – I’ve already had a couple of fighters crying off until things settle down.’
‘I’ll make this quick then. Give me two grand and I’ll leave the city.’
‘Two grand, Billy? Like I’ve got that!’
‘You’ve made plenty on my fights.’ A wicked glint came into Guthrie’s eye. ‘And a little bird tells me that you had money on me to beat the kid. What would the boxing authorities think if they heard that the great Roly Turner had money on a fight which damn near cost another fighter his life?’
‘It’s all lies,’ exclaimed Turner, turning to look at Gaines. ‘Honest, Lawrie.’
‘But who’s going to prove it?’ said Guthrie, with a wicked glint in his eye.
‘Now hang on, Billy…’
‘Give me the money and I’ll be gone.’
Turner shook his head and Guthrie took a step forward, bunching his fist.
‘Leave him alone,’ said a voice and Lawrie Gaines walked across the gymnasium. ‘You’ve already done enough harm.’
‘Weren’t my fault,’ said Guthrie. ‘Your brother should not have been in that ring with me. Man against boy.’
All eyes turned to Lawrie Gaines, who had started to lose his battle with emotion and now stood, fighting back the tears.
‘I should kill you for that,’ he said quietly.
‘You and who’s army, son?’
Guthrie looked round at the other boxers but they averted their eyes.
‘Typical,’ he snorted. ‘Fucking cowards. I’ll give your brother one thing, he had guts.’
‘And so have I, so let’s settle this once and for all,’ said Gaines, nodding at the boxing ring.
‘Don’t talk soft.’
‘Now come on, Lawrie,’ said Turner, stepping in between the two men. ‘There is no way you are going to fight…’
‘No,’ said Gaines, brushing the trainer aside. ‘No, Roly, I want to give this bastard the beating he deserves. Finish the job that our kid started.’
‘Come on then,’ said Guthrie, his voiced laced with menace as he brushed past him and walked towards the ring. ‘Come on then, son. Let’s see what you’ve got.’
‘No,’ said an alarmed Turner. ‘I’m not letting you do this, not in my gym. I’m in enough trouble as it is.’
‘If he wants to fight, I’ll fight,’ said Guthrie and gave a dry laugh as Gaines walked towards the ring. ‘Hey, maybe you’ll get a hospital bed next to your brother.’
Gaines gave an enraged roar and lunged at Guthrie. The older man swayed to one side and snapped out a fist, catching his assailant on the side of the head. Gaines span round with a startled cry and staggered backwards, his hand going up to his busted mouth, the blood pouring from his gashed lip. Spitting out a tooth, he lunged forwards again but Guthrie smashed out his other fist, catching Gaines in the face. Everyone heard the bones cracking as the younger man clasped a hand to his nose. Without a further word, Guthrie stalked from the room and out into the night.
‘So you see,’ said Gaines softly, ‘I did try to kill him. Believe me, if he hadn’t been so strong, I would have an’ all.’
He lifted a hand to his slightly bent nose. ‘He left me with a souvenir, mind.’
The door opened and Colley walked back into the room. Blizzard glanced up at him but the sergeant shook his head.
‘Uniform confirmed his story,’ said Colley, sitting down. ‘Landlord backed it up as well. Reckons he didn’t leave the pub the whole time. Said he’d been on Stellas, wasn’t physically capable of murdering anyone.’
‘It looks,’ said Blizzard wearily as he looked across the table at Lawrie Gaines, ‘like you are free to go.’
Gaines stood up.
‘Just one thing before you do go,’ said the inspector. ‘Your brother’s fight.’
‘What of it?’
‘We heard that Eddie Gayle lost a lot of money because Billy Guthrie was disqualified. Do you think there’s a chance that Gayle might have killed Guthrie because of it?’
‘Who knows?’ said Gaines. ‘I keep out of his way but why would I care even if he did? He’s done us all a favour.’
‘Maybe so, but how many innocent people has he hurt down the years?’ said the inspector as Gaines headed for the door. ‘How many lives has he ruined?’
‘Nowt to do with me.’
‘Someone will have to stand up to him.’
‘I told you, I ain’t scared.’
‘Then prove it. How many more Archies do you want there to be?’
The comment seemed to strike home and Gaines hesitated before looking back at the inspector.
‘Can I trust you?’ he asked.
‘Depends what you have to say.’
Gaines sat back down.
‘After my brother’s funeral, a few of us went back to the gym for a few drinks. When everyone else had gone, me and Roly got stuck into a bottle of whisky.’
‘And?’
‘He told me that there was some sort of a scam that evening.’
‘Scam?’ The inspector leaned forward. ‘What kind of scam?’
‘The word was that Gayle fixed a couple of the fights on the under-card.’
‘Why?’
&n
bsp; ‘Because he had an accumulator bet that night. If the fights did not all go the right way, he lost his cash. Anyway, two of the fights were shoe-ins. One was a lad called Marty Hagen against some Irish feller. It was no contest, the Paddy dropped him in the first.’
‘And the other was Billy Guthrie?’
‘Should have been Billy Guthrie. Guthrie was right, it was man against boy – I had even pleaded with Archie not to take the fight but he was determined, said it could be the making of him if he beat him. I mean Guthrie was still a name even though he was at the end of his career. Archie was the only one in that hall thought he could win it.’
‘So where does the fixing come into it?’ asked Blizzard.
‘Gayle’s problem was the under-card. He had four fights on the accumulator but although everyone reckoned Hagen and Guthrie was odds-on, just about all the other fights were pretty even. Roly reckoned Gayle paid two of the lads to take a dive.’
‘But why go to all the trouble?’ asked Colley.
‘Roly reckoned that Gayle had it in for a local bookie who had beaten him at a poker game. Cost him a lot of money so Gayle decided to get it back. It was all going to plan until the last bout of the fight, the one between my brother and Billy Guthrie. Gayle must have been panicking. Twenty-five grand is a lot of money in anyone’s book.’
‘Twenty-five grand!’ exclaimed the inspector. ‘Are you sure?’
‘That was what Roly reckoned.’
‘Then your brother threatened to ruin it all?’
‘I don’t think anyone realised how out of condition Guthrie was until he started to tire in the third. I don’t reckon he’d trained. Typical Guthrie, always reckoned he could beat anyone.’ Gaines gave a smile. ‘And our kid was magnificent that night – I never knew he could fight like that. I don’t think anyone did. Not even Roly. Guthrie sure as hell didn’t. He said as much last week.’
‘Last week?’ said Blizzard slowly. ‘You saw him last week? When last week?’
Gaines hesitated, the horror written large across his face.
‘When?’ said Blizzard, a hard edge to his voice. ‘When did you see Billy Guthrie?’