by Jim McGrath
‘Thorne. I need to go to a hospital.’
Collins ignored Strong’s pleading and asked, ‘How did the coppers track you down?’
‘Barman downstairs knows me. Saw me that night and put two and two together. Now for fuck’s sake can I go to the hospital. Please?’
Collins nodded and said, ‘Stay in Brum. We may want to speak to you again.’
Outside the hotel, Clark turned to Marie and Collins, ‘How about a Chinese on me?’
‘I’d love to, but I’m knackered. I need me bed,’ said Collins.
‘Typical of the younger generation, no stamina.’
‘Well I’m up for it,’ said Marie and linked arms with Clark.
As he drove home Collins realised that he’d not briefed Clark on what he had learned in Dublin, but it could wait until tomorrow.
Wednesday 2nd October 1968
Handsworth/Sheldon, 09.13hrs
‘So what wem doing today, O great and wise Sergeant?’ asked Clark from behind his desk as Collins hung up his coat.
‘I’m grand, thanks for asking,’ Collins said with a smile.
Clark knew that smile. Collins was on to something. ‘OK. Out with it. What have you got?’
‘Agnes broke Simpson’s code.’
‘Well what is it?’
‘It’s a safe deposit box.’
‘And where’s this box located or do wi have to go through every bank in Brum?’
‘It’s in Lloyds Bank on Great Hampton Street.’
‘Bloody hell! Are yow sure?’
‘Absolutely.’
Clark smiled broadly. Both men knew that if the report was still in the deposit box it would blow the corruption case wide open.
‘When are wi going to the bank?’
‘I thought I’d wait until a certain Black Country yob was able to attend.’
‘I’ll ignore yowr poor attempt at an insult and just say, let’s go, now.’
‘OK. But for God’s sake remember that we need the co-operation of the bank manager if he’s to let me open the box without a warrant. So be nice to him.’
‘I’m always nice to me social betters. Mind yow, I ain’t met anyone better than me since 1943.’
As they drove to the bank Collins reported what he had learnt in Ireland and discussed their meeting with Adam Strong. On balance both men agreed that what Strong had said was probably the truth or as near to the truth as they would ever get.
The Lloyds Bank branch on Great Hampton Street had been built in the late 1880’s, but it had an elegance that was unusual in so many Victorian buildings. It consisted of two tall storeys consisting of painted stone and terracotta, with Gothic, Renaissance and Dutch gable motifs. It certainly stood out from most of the other business premises on the street, such as the huge Lucas’s office block which was squat, large and box like without any decorative touches.
It was ten past ten when Collins and Clark walked into the bank and asked one of the cashiers if they could speak to the manager. At first the cashier said that they would need to make an appointment. When they showed him their warrant cards, he disappeared quicker than the lodger when he heard the landlady’s hubby arrive home early.
Three minutes later the manager appeared. For a moment Collins almost laughed. He looked exactly like Arthur Lowe who had been Leonard Swindley in Coronation Street and was currently playing Captain Mainwaring in Dad’s Army. The only difference was that when the manager spoke, he had a Yorkshire accent. ‘Good morning, officers. My name’s Stokes. I am the manager. I understand that you wish to speak to me?’
‘Thank you for taking the time to see us, Mr Stokes. I’m Detective Sergeant Collins and my colleague is Detective Constable Clark. Is this key one of yours?’ Collins asked and handed the small balding man the key.
Mr Stokes turned the key over and said, ‘Yes, it is.’
‘We need to open the box as a matter of urgency.’
‘Do you have a warrant to open the deposit box?’
‘No, we don’t.’
‘Then I am unable to permit you to access the box,’ he said his eyes flicking to the side as the front door opened and a young woman entered the bank.
‘Mr Stokes, you are aware that the box was rented by Mr Simpson prior to his death last year. We believe that it contains evidence pertaining to those responsible for his death.’
‘I’m sorry. I really would like to help but my hands are tied.’ He said as his eyes watched the mini-skirted young woman cross to the counter. ‘As you surely know, you must provide me with a warrant before I can give you access to the box.’
Collins found it irritating that the man avoided eye contact. But before he could say anything Clark moved closer to Stokes and leaning forward whispered in his ear. The manager’s face turned from florid red to deathly pale as he listened. After twenty seconds Clark stepped back and said, ‘Now, Mr Stokes, given this new information yow’ve just received, are yow willing to cooperate.’
Mr Stokes took a handkerchief from his jacket pocket dabbed at the sweat that had sprung up on his forehead and said in a strangulated voice, ‘Yes.’
Twenty minutes later Collins and Clark left the bank with the report securely wrapped in a cloth money bag. ‘What did you say to him that changed his mind?’
‘I said that I would lodge a complaint with Lloyds about his behaviour towards women. How he can’t concentrate on anything except the next woman to walk into the bank. Then, I’d find out which toms he visits, arrest him and make sure his case gets reported in the Mail.’
‘Well it certainly worked.’
‘Anyways, what are wi going to do with the report?’
‘Find someplace safe to copy it and then we’ll pop over and see our favourite copper in the Fraud Squad, Superintendent Patterson.’
‘That sounds reasonable to me.’ There’s a place on Newhall Street wi can use.’
Forty minutes later Collins and Clark knocked on Superintendent’s Patterson’s door and were told to enter.’ The man behind the desk had not changed very much since the first time Collins had met him. He was wearing a dark grey check suit, black brogues and a white shirt and was puffing away on his pipe. As he stood up, a smile spread across his face. ‘What brings you pair of rascals to my humble lodgings?’ he asked.
‘We have a present for you, Sir.’
‘The last present you gave me occupied my team and me for nearly six months.’
‘But it were worth it? asked Clark.
‘That it was. What have you got for me this time?’
Collins placed the brown paper bag that Quick Printers had given him on the desk and said, ‘This might just be the case of your career, Sir.’
Sitting down, Patterson pulled the report out and started to skim-read the pages. As he read the headings his skimming slowed down as he stopped to read entire paragraphs and odd whole pages. After ten minutes he looked up and grinned at the two men. ‘Who gave you this?’
‘We sort of acquired it from a safe deposit box. But the man who asked us to look into it was Superintendent Wallace.’
‘I was sorry to hear of his health problems. How is he?
‘Dying, Sir. He’s been investigating corruption in Brum for two years but had only managed to get a few names and facts together. He asked us to look into it and try to break the case before he died.’
‘And this John Simpson, the writer of the report, is he available to interview?’
‘No, Sir we believe he was murdered about twelve months ago. We’re investigating his death along with those of Claire Lafferty, Christina Murray, Sir Charles Endbury and his wife. We’re also looking into a hit and run on one of the builders named in the report, Martin Cunningham, and trying to stop the IRA from establishing a bridgehead in Brum.’
‘OK. I take it MI5 are sniffing around.’
‘They ain’t yet, Sir,’ said Clark.
‘Does anyone know that you’ve given me this report?’
‘No, Sir.’
‘Good, keep
it that way. I’ll read the report tonight and I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon when I’ve had a chance to consider it fully.
‘OK. Thank you, Sir. There was also a letter written by Simpson attached to the report.’ Collins dug in his pocket and pulled out an envelope and handed it to Patterson. It was a statement written by Simpson the day before he died outlining his meeting with Reece the following day. ‘As you can see, Sir, he thought he might not survive the meeting.’
‘A brave man,’ said Patterson. ‘Leave it with me.’
Outside, the skies had opened and it was raining heavily. Pulling their macs over their heads they made a run for the car. They only just made it to the shelter of the Capri before a ragged fork of lightning lit up the darkening sky and the rain became torrential.
As he pulled on his safety belt Collins said ‘I was thinking it’s time we had a chat with Mr Thorne.’
‘Steady now. Don’t overwork the two brain cells yow have.’
‘At least my two brain cells are still working unlike yours.’
‘Bollocks,’ said Clark and to prove it continued, ‘I’ve been thinking about what yow said about me being too soft with some of the wankers we meet. I’ve reached an age when I need to practice being an unreasonable, slightly mad bastard with violent tendencies.’
‘Well don’t bring them out too strongly or we’ll have a dead interviewee on our hands.’
‘No chance. I only kill people who are trying to kill me. Just one thing, park well away from Thorne’s office. I have a reputation to uphold as a tough bastard and tough bastards don’t drive around in poncy Capris painted yellow.’
‘You still on that record?’
‘Yep and I will be till yow get rid of this load of yellow crap.’
Neither Collins nor Clark noticed the black Humber Hawk start its engine and follow them down the road towards the Cathedral. The driver of the Hawk knew his job and stayed at least two cars back all the way from town to Thorne’s office in Sheldon.
Thorne’s business premises were off the main A45 on Wagoner’s Road and consisted of a two-story building that boasted workshops and a factory shop on the ground floor and offices on the first. Collins pulled into one of the three bays reserved for customers. If he’d checked in his rear-view mirror, he would have seen the Humber Hawk drive past and park on the opposite side of the road outside a greengrocer’s.
Both men flashed their warrant cards at the receptionist, and Collins said, ‘We’d like to speak to Mr Thorne, please.’
‘Is he expecting you?’
‘I think yow could say that,’ said Clark and smiled.
Without waiting for the receptionist to provide them with directions both men headed for the stairs. The name plate on the third door on the left said “Mr C. Thorne, Managing Director”. They walked into the small office occupied by Thorne’s secretary without knocking. Before she had finished standing up, Clark knocked on the connecting door and without waiting for a reply walked into Thorne’s office.
‘Morning, Mr Thorne,’ said Clark. ‘I’m Detective Constable Clark and this is Detective Sergeant Collins. Wem here to ask yow what yow know about the deaths of Christina Murray and Claire Lafferty.’
Thorne stood up and glared at Clark, a vein in his temple pulsing. Taking a deep breath, he sat down again. By the time he spoke he was calm and friendly sounding. ‘I’ve been expecting you.’
‘Oh, why so?’ asked Collins.
‘Well, you visited John Reece. It was inevitable that you’d get around to me sometime.’
‘Why inevitable?’ asked Collins. ‘You’re not joined at the hip with him, are you?’
Thorne smiled and shook his head. ‘No, we’re not, but I do a lot of business with John.’
‘Yeah, we heard about that. Yow supply the muscle in the partnership. Did yow bring someone in to do the two girls found in the cemetery, or do yow have a stone-cold killer on your books already?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t employ killers. I run a legitimate company selling fire and burglary alarms and security services.’
Thorne’s responses were irritatingly calm and reasonable. Collins was annoyed with himself. He’d thought that a full-frontal attack might have angered Thorne. It hadn’t and now he had nowhere to go other then let Clarkee try some rough stuff and Thorne was too cute to give him an excuse.
‘So how come two ladies, one of who entertained Sir Endbury shortly before he changed his mind on the Birchfield deal ended up murdered?’ asked Clark.
‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. Charles Endbury was a well-known womaniser. But he had a reputation of being honest. I doubt that he would have his views changed by a shag. No matter how good it was.’
‘Wi was thinking more along the lines of blackmail than a roll in the hay,’ said Clark.
‘So now you’re now accusing me of being a blackmailer?’
‘Lots of people seem to change their minds after receiving a visit from you. And nearly always the change benefits Mr Reece,’ said Collins.
‘What can I say? I have a gift for negotiation. Besides, where’s the evidence to back up your wild claims and accusations?’
‘Wem in what’s called “the process of collecting it”.’
‘Well until you’ve actually got some evidence, would you mind leaving please? I have a very full day ahead of me.’
‘Not at all Mr Thorne,’ said Collins ‘But you can be sure of one thing, we’ll be back.’
It had started raining again and both men ran to the car. Wiping his face with a handkerchief, Collins asked, ‘What do you think?’
‘Hard to say. Reece warned him wi was coming. He were prepared for us. The only thing I’m sure of is that he’s a bloody good liar. When he said he had nowt to do with the killing of the two girls I almost believed him.’
‘Well, me Lud, I have to admit that I am in accord with my learned friend’s opinion.’
‘Bastard, ain’t it, when a plan don’t work out? Anyway, where to now, Tonto?’
‘Hang on a minute. I thought we’d agreed. I’m the Lone Ranger. You’re Tonto.’
‘Bollocks to that. It’s me that has the widest knowledge and experience of police work, not yow.’
‘But the stripes are on my arm.’
‘Yeah, and they’ll be up your arse if you don’t stop arguing with me.’
‘OK, Kemosabe. But you do know what Kemosabe means in English, don’t you?’
‘No. What?’
‘I can’t say. It’s one of our tribal secrets. I can never reveal the name we have for small, annoying, white men with a penchant for violence.’
‘Sod me. Where did yow pick up a word like penchant? I dain’t think the Green Reading Book Two covered it.’
‘That’s because you never got passed Orange Book 1.’
‘Bollocks,’ said Clark. ‘Anyways where to now, Tonto?’
‘We need to head back to the station, and report to Hicks. The investigation is heating up and we need to keep him onside.’
‘OK.’
Handsworth, 15.12hrs
Collins picked up the phone on the third ring. It was Superintendent Patterson. ‘Well, Michael, you were right. You’ve given me the biggest case of my career. Simpson was one hell of an auditor. He would have had a stellar career in the Fraud Squad if he was a copper. He’s named Reece, Thorne, Charlton, Hill, Robbins and at least five other bigwigs in the Council who were involved in corrupt practices. I’m seeing the ACC this afternoon to get more manpower. For everyone named in the report there will be five, ten or twenty others with their hand in the till. I’m going to be busy. I’ll call you and we can meet up when I’ve got a good picture of who’s involved.’
‘That’s great, Sir.’
Hanging up, Collins checked his watch. It was still early but he felt knackered. He needed an early night. Leaving a note on the office noticeboard, he headed home to give Annabel the good news.
An unknown car was parked outside the f
ront door when Collins arrived home. Only when he turned his engine off did he hear raised voices from inside the house. Collins ran to the front door and opened it quietly. A large man was shouting and pulling Marjorie across the hall towards the front door. ‘Come on, you fucking bitch. You think you can humiliate me in front of our friends and neighbours. Just wait until I get you home.’ Annabel was pulling at the man’s free arm and screaming at him. There was no sign of Agnes or Sheba.
Collins closed the three yards between himself and Marjorie’s husband, grabbed him by the hair and pulled him backward over his outstretched leg. The man let go of Marjorie at the same moment that Collins let go of her husband’s hair. He landed hard on the parquet floor and banged his head with a loud crack. Before he could move Collins dropped on the man’s stomach with both knees. He felt the air from the man’s lungs brush past his face. Turning, he smashed a right hook into the side of the man’s face just under the eye.
Collins stood up. Not a sound could be heard except the man’s attempt to suck some air into his lungs. ‘OK, ladies. I think you should pop out and do a bit of shopping while I speak to Mr Burns.’
Both women nodded silently and crossed to the cloakroom for their overcoats and bags. On their way-out Marjorie stood over the prone figure of her husband. ‘Not so fucking big now, are you?’ she said and spat in his face.
Collins grabbed Burns by the lapels and dragged him upright. ‘Now that we’re alone, we can talk without any interruptions. Now you can either walk or I can drag you but we’re going in the kitchen.’
‘I’ll walk.’ Stumbling, Burns headed for the kitchen. Just before he reached the door he swung around and tried to punch Collins. He was off balance, and Collins easily blocked the punch with his left forearm and smashed a straight right into Burns’ face, breaking his nose. Blood spurted and flowed over his chin and dripped onto his expensive white shirt and the floor.