The Anita Waller Collection

by Anita Waller

  She gave him a brief kiss and asked how Daryl was.

  ‘He’s okay. He’s watching some movie or other in the lounge. Bit quiet, but he’s bound to be. Come in the kitchen. I need to talk to you away from Daryl’s ears. I spent most of last night trying to come up with a plan, but it means I need your help.’

  ‘Good God, Carl, I’m already giving you an alibi. What more can you want?’

  ‘If I can persuade Kenny and Billy to come here for a meal tonight, to say thank you for Tuesday night and to go over the plans for tomorrow, will you be able to do it? I might manage chips and egg, but I don’t think that’ll impress them.’

  Aileen laughed. ‘Sure. But why? We went over it in detail the other night. You can’t have forgotten in two days.’

  ‘I don’t want to tell you the reason yet, but it’s important.’

  She stared at him; she could see the strain on his face. ‘That’s good enough for me. Of course I’ll do it. Text them and check they’re free. About six? Then, if Kenny’s called in, at least he’ll have eaten.’

  Carl pulled her close and hugged her. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered, and kissed the top of her head. ‘Now, I need to get Daryl out of the house – I don’t want him meeting up with Kenny and Billy. That side of my life is over after tomorrow night.’

  ‘You could pay for Liam to take him to the cinema – and a McDonald’s, of course.’

  ‘He’s not working?’

  ‘No, he’s got some time off. He’s got Vinnie and Megan’s funerals next week, so he thought it better to book a two-week break. He’s a good lad.’

  ‘You think he’ll do that?’

  ‘Give me five minutes, and we’ll know. You contact Kenny and Billy, make sure they can come first. If they can’t come, then it’s pointless asking Liam.’

  ‘They’ve got to come,’ Carl muttered.

  He texted Kenny on the new phone, and it seemed only seconds before a reply came through.

  Thanks. About six? Stop worrying, it’ll be fine.

  With Liam agreeing to take Daryl out, Carl breathed easier. He handed Aileen some money and gave her instructions to get something spectacular. He wanted Billy and Kenny mellow.

  While she was out, he washed the whisky glasses until they sparkled, took out Megan’s finest crockery and polished her best cutlery. He also polished a small silver tray until it gleamed, then stood the whisky glasses on it, with his most expensive malt standing proudly in the centre. None of the glasses had so much as a single fingerprint on them. He had made sure of that.

  The table looked beautiful, and Kenny and Billy arrived on time. Aileen welcomed them with a smile and led them through to the lounge. She told them the meal was almost ready, because she wanted them to have relaxed slightly after eating, if Grausohn chose that night to call Kenny in.

  After eating in the sparklingly clean dining room, they headed out to the patio, where Carl switched on the heater. The temperature had dropped slightly, making them all aware that the long, hot summer was drawing ever faster towards autumn. He carried out the tray set with the whisky decanter and the glasses; they gleamed in the late evening sun.

  ‘Malt?’ Carl asked.

  Billy responded with a smile and a ‘please,’ but Kenny shook his head. ‘Best not,’ he said. ‘If Grausohn rings… and I’ve already had that very fine wine.’

  ‘Then can I tempt you with something else?’

  ‘Got any tonic water?’

  Carl nodded. ‘Only tonic water? Or something to go with it?’

  ‘No, a tonic water will do, thanks, Carl.’

  Carl breathed a sigh of relief as he returned into the house to get the requested drink.

  He poured it into the glass and stood the bottle on the table. ‘Help yourself,’ he said, and sat down. Aileen had poured one for Billy and one for Carl, and he sipped at it gratefully. For a moment, he had thought that his plans would go awry.

  They quickly went through the details for the following night, and just as they were thinking Kenny wouldn’t be going out, his phone rang.

  ‘Boss?’

  There was a brief pause while Kenny listened to Grausohn, and then, he said, ‘Ten minutes,’ before disconnecting the call.

  ‘I’m sorry, we have to leave you. Thank you, Aileen, Carl, it’s been smashing. We’ll celebrate properly once tomorrow is over.’

  Kenny and Billy stood, and both placed their glasses back on the tray. They headed through the house and out of the front door.

  Aileen leaned against it. ‘Thank goodness that’s over,’ she said shakily. ‘I was starting to worry that Daryl might get back before they’d left. Did you get what you needed?’

  Carl nodded. ‘Definitely.’ His tone was grim. ‘Roll on tomorrow night.’

  ‘Come in, Kenny.’ Grausohn looked up as he heard the knock on the door.

  ‘Boss,’ Kenny acknowledged, as he entered the office. ‘Problem?’

  ‘Carl Clarkson.’

  ‘What’s he done?’ Kenny felt a flicker of unease.

  ‘Nothing. And, Kenny, that’s my point. Where is the list of these kids he promised?’

  Kenny smiled. ‘You should have it by tomorrow. He’s been thorough with this one. Two of the kids are out of the picture – one’s dead, and one’s hospitalised. He knows who the other four are, and he’s got two addresses to sort. We’ve got to be careful, boss. Can’t make any mistakes with these.’

  ‘When will I get this information?’ Grausohn’s eyes were piercing.

  ‘Tomorrow, at some point.’

  ‘Okay, here’s the deal, Kenny. I want him here at eight tomorrow evening.’ His German accent was getting ever more guttural, the angrier he got. ‘No pissing about, Kenny. You bring him, with that list complete. And the day after, I want one of those kids here.’

  ‘Yes, boss, no problem. Eight o’clock it is.’ Kenny couldn’t believe his luck. It was as if Grausohn had read their script. It was only later that he realised it was a perfectly normal arrangement for Grausohn to make; anybody who was in trouble dreaded the eight o’clock appointment. And it always meant nobody else would be there; no witnesses to orders issued.

  ‘Is there anything else you need tonight?’

  ‘Yes, my fucking consignment. I’ve smoothed things out for the rest, but I still need that back. You’ve not heard anything?’

  ‘No, boss, and I’ve got people out there asking questions. Not a sniff of it. Somebody’s stashed it away, and they’re waiting.’

  ‘These kids know something. And one of them will talk.’

  Kenny nodded. ‘You’ll get it, I’m sure.’ He wasn’t talking about the drugs.

  ‘Come and have a drink with me, Kenny, and tell me what you think about this Fraser.’ He stood and walked through to his lounge. ‘Whisky?’

  ‘A small one, thanks, already had wine with my meal.’

  Grausohn nodded. ‘Good man. Reliable Kenny. You’re the only one I trust around here. Can’t get my head around this Fraser. I brought him here as a favour, but he doesn’t know me like you do, Kenny.’

  ‘He’ll be okay,’ Kenny said. ‘He needs to settle in. It’s not easy coming from London to Yorkshire, you know. It’ll take him a while to work things out.’

  ‘Aye, there’s nowt so queer as folks,’ Grausohn said, the Yorkshire phrase with a German accent sounding… strange.

  ‘What?’ Kenny laughed, taking a sip of his whisky.

  ‘Tommy taught me that. I miss Tommy, but he was becoming a liability.’

  Just like me, Kenny thought. Tommy had seen what a thug Grausohn was, and now, he had. The only difference was that Tommy had done nothing about it; he was going to stop it, to shut down this whole caboodle, if he could. Maybe Fraser would take it over, bring his pals up from London, but whatever happened, he would be out of it.

  He and Billy had their place in Crete, and that would be their immediate stop, but then, they would decide what to do. He’d always fancied Hawaii…

  Grausoh
n interrupted his thoughts. ‘Cigar, Kenny?’

  They stood out on the balcony, staring across the city. The sun was setting, and darkness was approaching fast. Kenny studied the layout carefully and knew that it would be fairly simple to tip him over. They would need to lift the huge man by one leg each and leave the rest to gravity. But they wouldn’t get a second chance – it had to be first time, and over.

  ‘Somewhere out there, Kenny, is my package.’ Grausohn sounded almost contemplative. ‘I want it back. It belongs to me. And I know those kids are the answer.’

  ‘By tomorrow night, we’ll know who they are. Carl’s done a good job on this. He had to be careful asking the questions. It’s kids, and people are a bit too quick to scream paedophile these days. But he’s almost there. He’s earned the money.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Grausohn sounded strained. ‘I feel it’s taken him so long…’

  ‘And if the police had learned he was asking questions about kids and their addresses? No, it was never going to be quick, this job. And he’s almost there with the answers. Keep him on side, boss, he’s a good worker. And at least we know him, not like this Fraser bloke.’

  ‘You’re right. If he has all their names and addresses, there’ll be a hefty bonus. Think he’s likely to be able to step up to the top table at some point? Think we can trust him?’

  ‘I’m sure we can. I’ve kept in close touch with him while he’s been doing this job for you – and don’t forget his wife’s died, so he’s had that to deal with as well. He’s okay, is Carl. I think we can bring him in properly. Up to you, boss.’

  They carried on smoking, both deep in thought. Different thoughts. Kenny was trying to work out exactly where his boss would land when they tipped him over, and Grausohn, Kenny assumed, was wondering where his package was.

  By ten o’clock, Kenny had said goodnight and was heading back to the ground floor in the private lift. The car park was on the opposite side of the building to the balcony of Grausohn’s flat, so at least Grausohn wouldn’t land on his bonnet. There was, however, a small matter of CCTV cameras pointing down to the car park; this was an exclusive block of flats with expensive cars in the car park, and he had to get around that. They had to park elsewhere, which would add to their getaway time. And they had to escape via the basement, scene of the wheelie bin disposal of Johanna.

  He put the car into gear and drove out of the car park. He turned right instead of his usual left and drove slowly, looking for the ideal spot. He made a note of a probable one and hoped it would be available the next night, then drove home, feeling jittery and needing a hug from Billy.

  Carl wrapped the glass that had contained tonic water in kitchen towel. He had chosen small glasses deliberately, not because it was his most expensive malt whisky, but because he needed to fit it into the inside pocket of his suit, without it being obvious. He would also put the fictional list for Grausohn into the same pocket, so if Kenny said anything about the bulge, he would be able to say what was in there.

  Aileen came up behind him and put her arms around him. ‘That was a good night. I’m not sure what you’re playing at, but I like them, Kenny and Billy. Want me to stay tonight?’

  He turned around to face her. ‘I do,’ he said, and kissed her.

  They heard the front door open, and Liam and Daryl walked in. Daryl’s limp was hardly noticeable, although the sling was still in place, supporting his shoulder.

  Liam was carrying a half full bucket of popcorn, and he put it on the kitchen table. ‘Good film,’ he said, and high-fived Daryl, who grinned.

  ‘We’ve seen a couple of other trailers that looked good, Dad, so next time you want me out of the way, we’ll go to the cinema again. Okay?’

  Chapter 20

  Friday morning started overcast, but by ten, the sun had come out, and blinds were adjusted at windows. Roberts walked out of his own room and into the bustle of the main office. He glanced around; everybody seemed to be busy, and he decided he wouldn’t start interrupting them now, they were obviously updating reports, researching potential leads… and he was doing nothing except thinking.

  He walked over to the whiteboard and stared at it. Vinnie Walmsley, a young lad now dead, connected with drugs, although nothing proved; Ella Johnston, a nine-year-old child knocked down in a hit and run; Megan Clarkson, killed in a road traffic accident that was no accident, and Daryl Clarkson, injured because of that RTA. What linked them? Three different cars with false number plates, Kenneth Lancaster at various scenes…

  He stood for a while staring at the pictures and notes, arrows drawn with tentative connections and links.

  Craig Smythe walked across to him and handed him a piece of paper. ‘He’s on our system, sir. Kenneth Lancaster. Years ago, he was arrested for stealing a car, got a suspended, then a year later, he was locked up for three months for aggravated burglary. But that was all in the past. He was only nineteen when he went to prison. It obviously sorted him, because there’s been nothing since. Not a sniff. Over twenty years clean.’

  ‘Don’t you mean over twenty years of not being caught?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I do. I think he’s in this little lot,’ he indicated the whiteboard with a sweep of his hand, ‘right up to his armpits.’

  ‘So, how do we prove it?’ Roberts mused, his eyes once again back on the whiteboard. ‘Thank you for this, Craig.’

  ‘No problem, sir. What next?’

  ‘Let’s go and see how young Daryl is getting on. In fact, let’s call at the Brownlow house and the Walker house. We’ll see if the kids have anything else to say, because there’s something niggling…’

  ‘Squad car, or you want it low key?’

  ‘We’ll take a squad car, if there’s one available, I think, Craig. Makes it a bit more official.’

  The Brownlow children were in the back garden, feeling out of sorts. What had started out to be a brilliant summer was rapidly fading away into a miserable autumn.

  Freya was missing Ella; they had been best friends for four years, and suddenly, the friendship had been ripped apart. Freya sat watching her brothers as they played one-a-side football, knowing that they must be feeling like her. She pulled out her whistle from under her T-shirt and blew her own call sign. Both the boys turned around, looked at each other then walked over to their sister.

  ‘Freya? What’s up?’

  Her eyes were full of tears. ‘I miss Ella, and Sammy and Daryl. I’m sick of colouring, that’s not what I want to do. But we can’t go anywhere, can we?’

  Mark and Dom looked helplessly at each other. They pulled out their own whistles, twins acting in unison, and blew their own call signs.

  ‘We feel the same, Freya. We needed to blow our whistles as well. And I bet it’s the same with Daryl and Sammy.’ Mark plonked the football on the garden table, and they sat down.

  ‘What do we do?’ Dom asked, clearly unsure how to handle a tearful sister who was normally the strongest of the three of them.

  Freya stood and swept her hand across the table top. The pencil crayons scattered across the garden, along with the colouring book and the football.

  ‘Freya!’ Sally’s horrified shout echoed across the garden, and Freya looked up, trying to brush away her tears, to see DI Roberts, a policeman in uniform, and her mum standing in the kitchen doorway.

  Freya took one look and ran for the Wendy house. Dom and Mark stared, unsure whether to follow her or let their mother deal with it.

  Sally moved purposefully across the garden, and the two police officers came to sit at the table with the boys.

  ‘She’s missing Ella,’ Dom said.

  Roberts nodded. ‘I can imagine. They were in the same class, weren’t they?’

  Dom nodded. ‘Been best mates for a long time.’

  ‘Then, lads, she’s going to need a lot of support. You’re all still in the same school when you go back next week?’

  ‘No,’ Mark said. ‘We’re going into year seven. Freya is two years behind us.’<
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  ‘That’s a shame. You think it’s hard for her now, but it’ll be worse at school when she doesn’t have Ella by her side.’

  The boys nodded, watching their mother kneeling on the grass with her head inside the Wendy house.

  After a couple of minutes, Sally stood and walked back to the others. ‘She’s upset, and she’s going to stay in there for a bit. Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘We’ll have water, if that’s okay, Mrs Brownlow.’

  She nodded. ‘Boys, you want anything?’

  They settled on orange juice, then waited with a touch of fear going on inside their heads.

  Sally brought out the tray, and they all helped themselves. She carried one across to the Wendy house and handed it in through the window.

  Freya remained inside her bolthole.

  ‘What did you want to see us about?’ Sally asked. She felt a little tetchy towards them; she had enough on her hands, trying to bring some normality back into her family.

  ‘Just a chat, really. See how everyone is, if you’ve heard anything in the estate gossip, that sort of thing. I can see Freya is out of sorts.’

  ‘She’s a little girl, never experienced death before. What did you expect? She’s also very scared, which is down to us, in part. John has turned this house into a fortress. We take the kids everywhere; we can’t leave them for a moment. They can’t play anymore, not as they did before, and it’s heart-breaking to watch them be so quiet. Do you know we had a nickname for Freya? It was feral Freya. Does she look feral now, or does she look like a scared little girl?’

  ‘I understand what you’re saying. But you have to continue like that, keeping them close by and safe, until we catch whoever killed Vinnie Walmsley, Ella Johnston and Megan Clarkson.’

  Sally’s eyes opened wide. ‘What do you mean? Do you think the same person killed them all? But why? What on earth had Ella, or Megan for that matter, done to deserve to die?’

  Roberts watched as Sally’s hand trembled. Calming down time. ‘No, Sally, that’s not what I’m saying. I do think there is something connecting all three deaths, but as yet, we’ve not found that connection. And it’s not necessarily the same person who killed them all. We’ve come here today to talk to the children again, to see if time has brought anything to the forefront of their minds. We’re clutching at straws, I know, but sometimes, it happens like that. A person suddenly remembers something that didn’t seem important first time around. We do this with every major case, believe me. We’re not specifically targeting anyone, just chatting. We’re going to see Sammy and Daryl later.’