Jenny Parker Investigates

by D J Harrison

  The pick-up lurches to a sudden halt. The man stands half way through a doorway in one of the old barns. He waves me to follow. I dutifully abandon my car and allow him to push me inside and close the door. He’s not carrying the money, he must have left it in his truck. Inside the gloom is broken by sharp shafts of bright sunlight that strike the uneven floor. He stands too close to me, teeth gritted, breath rank and odorous. I feel compelled to back away but make the effort to stand my ground.

  ‘Not a word of this to anyone,’ he starts. ‘If you so much as make a whisper, we’ll come back for you and you’ll wish you hadn’t. We know you, we know where you live, we know your boy now. If you squeal about this, we’ll take him and you will never see him again. There’s a man I know who’ll pay good money for a chance to play with a nice boy like him, so if you don’t want your little lad buggered to death, keep quiet.’

  The menace in his voice leaves me in no doubt about his sincerity. I’ve seen and felt this man’s vicious disregard for his fellow human beings. The despicable cruelty he threatens is all too believable.

  ‘Over there.’ He points into the gloom. I dash over to the huddled figure slumped on a pile of paper sacks. Toby wakes as I crush him in my arms, murmurs, ‘Mum’ and responds by putting a weak arm around my neck.

  64

  ‘I had to take him back otherwise they’d make a hell of a fuss. There’s no way that Tim would let me keep him here without demanding a huge explanation. What was I supposed to do? Tell him I’d let him be taken by a gang of criminals? That he’d almost been killed?’

  ‘He’s safer at his Dad’s.’ Monty nods in agreement, he’s in his usual position in my kitchen, mug of tea in hand.

  ‘I wish I could have kept him here, though. Anyway, when I dropped him off he seemed fine, chattered away as if nothing much had happened. He got a big sleepy, but it’s been a long day for him.’

  ‘Maybe they gave him something,’ Monty says.

  My reaction is instant; doubt and fear raise their ugly heads. ‘Drugs?’ I say. ‘Maybe I should have taken him to hospital, you know, get him checked out.’

  ‘Sleeping tablet, maybe a bit of one, if you say he was okay when you picked him up.’

  ‘If that bastard has done anything to him, I’ll make him wish he hadn’t.’

  ‘You got him back. He’s fine, you say, that’s all that matters.’ Monty makes me one of his unnecessary and unrequested cups of tea. At least it’s dark brown and tastes of something.

  ‘We need to find out who the old guy is, then we can get the money back,’ I say.

  ‘I thought a prominent MI5 officer like you would already have that in hand.’

  ‘Monty’s remark angers me. There’s no humour at all in this situation. My son has been put in deadly danger and someone has stolen two hundred thousand in cash from me.

  ‘That’s a bit uncalled for, don’t you think? I’ve been a bit busy getting Toby back. Where were you by the way? I thought you’d be some help, but you left me to go it alone.’

  ‘I’m being serious, Jenny; get on to your MI5 boss, tell him what’s happened. Give him the car registration and description of the men. That’s going to be the quickest and best way of getting this job done.’

  ‘I can’t tell him about the money.’

  ‘No of course not, tell him you were attacked, beaten, robbed if you like.’

  ‘But he’ll tell me to get on to the police, that’s all he’ll do.’

  ‘Not if you persuade him otherwise.’

  ‘How do I do that?’

  ‘I don’t have all the answers, Jenny. Think of something. That’s what you’re good at. If he doesn’t help, you’ve lost nothing, if he does we might be able to get your cash before it’s all been spent.’

  I can’t face ringing Hector on a Sunday evening, not even under these circumstances. Instead I call Charles Smith, the man who once protected and effectively recruited me. He answers instantly.

  ‘Jenny,’ he says.

  ‘Yes, I need some assistance.’

  ‘Fire away.’

  ‘Three men attacked me. I need you to find out who they are.’

  ‘What do you have?’

  ‘Car and registration, plus physical descriptions.’

  ‘Location?’

  ‘Round here, local without doubt, Lancashire almost definitely. Probably East Lancashire.’ I tell him everything I can, he listens in silence then hangs up.

  ‘There.’ I turn back to Monty. ‘Satisfied now?’

  ‘I will be if he calls you back.’ He grins.

  ‘There’s something very odd about the way the old guy reacted.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘When I gave him the cash he looked shocked as if he wasn’t expecting anything like as much.’

  ‘Lucky you didn’t give him the lot then,’ Monty says.

  ‘For a moment I thought he was going to give it all back to me, the whole thing felt very strange. I assumed from the way he was acting in my house that he knew exactly how much cash I have. I even thought it might be Lafferty who sent him.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’ Monty makes a quizzical face. ‘If Lafferty asked you to return his cash, wouldn’t you give it him?’

  ‘Of course I would. Like a shot, he dumped far too much on me all at once. It can’t be him.’

  ‘Who else knows you have the cash?’

  ‘Only Lafferty and Popov. It has to be someone working for them, someone who’s decided to get rich at my expense.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re on the right track, Jenny. It’s not Popov, or anyone associated with him, I’ll vouch for that, and it’s not Lafferty, you said it yourself, all he has to do is ask.’

  ‘That only leaves you, Monty.’ I give him a hard stare. He meets it with a thin smile.

  ‘No it doesn’t. Anyway I already took your cash, hid it, gave it back to you, hardly the work of a criminal mastermind. Think, Jenny, lots of people must know you deal in cash. Who have you paid large sums to recently?’

  A flood of realisation greets Monty’s words. He’s right. Now the old guy’s reaction makes sense. He must have been told I have cash, but not given any idea how much.

  ‘Dan Henderson,’ I say. ‘I gave him ten grand not so long ago, but he doesn’t seem the type to send heavies round to get more.’

  ‘Maybe he’s told someone else,’ Monty suggests, ‘bragged about it in the pub or something.’

  ‘It doesn’t feel right. I can’t believe it’s Dan’s fault.’

  ‘Who else knows you have cash but not how much?’ Monty asks.

  ‘Johnstone,’ I say, ‘the man I paid sixty thousand in cash for the tipping. You remember, we came back and got it together.’

  ‘Okay, that’s one, who else?’

  ‘Nobody I can think of,’ I say.

  ‘What else have you used the cash for?’

  ‘Only the tipping and paying Dan.’ I pause, trying to remember the occasions I had to dip into the money. ‘Are you saying it must be him?’

  ‘Not necessarily but I wouldn’t rule him out. He may seem okay but money can have a strange effect on people, even the nice ones.’

  ‘So it has to be Dan or Johnstone or someone they’ve told about me.’

  ‘Ask him,’ Monty says, ‘ring Dan Henderson, see what he has to say.’

  ‘He’ll only deny it.’

  ‘Maybe, but the way he denies it might tell you something.’

  It’s that gentle yet compelling persuasiveness again. Monty always gives me the impression he knows what he’s doing, that he’s more than just a safe pair of hands and, most importantly, that he cares. I get a flood of warm gratitude about having him around. I pick up my phone. Dan answers immediately, despite it being Sunday evening. I wonder if he’s as dutiful towards his other clients.

  ‘Hi Jenny,’ he says, ‘what’s the problem?’

  ‘Somebody robbed me, Dan, they knew I had cash. What I want to know is who have you told about o
ur dealings?’

  The phone goes silent. Maybe he’s shocked, maybe he’s not at all surprised and trying to think of a good story.

  Eventually he answers. ‘It’s not come from me, Jenny. I’ve been thinking about what I said to Johnstone and all he knows is it came from the Midgeland business.’

  ‘Didn’t you tell him my name?’

  ‘No, it wasn’t necessary. Nobody in the waste business knows you. They know Yvonne though. As far as anyone knows the tipping money came from Yvonne.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I disconnect the call and turn to Monty. ‘Come on,’ I say, ‘we’re going to pay Yvonne a visit.’

  65

  Yvonne’s Ford people carrier is sitting on her drive. The curtains are open in the modest semi-detached house and I can see the light from the TV flickering on the walls in the front room. I knock, leaving Monty in the car; I don’t want this to look confrontational.

  She opens the door a crack and peers at me. I can see enough of her face to understand she doesn’t welcome what she’s looking at.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asks.

  ‘I need to talk to you,’ I reply, ‘it won’t take long.’

  ‘It’s not convenient. Send me an email or something, I’ve nothing to say to you, Jenny.’

  ‘Yvonne, they kidnapped my little boy. They took him out of my house, left me beaten and tied up.’

  Her eyes widen as she takes in my words. She opens the door slowly then ushers me inside. The television noise consists of loud crashing noises and discordant music. We stand in the hallway, almost in exactly the same positions we occupied the previous time I was here.

  ‘They knew about my cash, Yvonne. Someone put them on to me or at least talked out of turn.’

  ‘It wasn’t me. You surely can’t believe I’d do anything to harm you or your Toby.’

  ‘You knew I was dealing in cash though.’

  ‘Yes, of course, you told me. We even discussed how you were going to introduce it into the business. What do the police say, do they have any ideas?’

  ‘I got him back myself. I’m keeping the police out of it, at least for the time being.’

  ‘Oh, is he okay?’

  ‘Yes, he’s fine, but you can’t imagine how it felt when they took him.’

  ‘Oh yes I can,’ she says, ‘I’ve got two of my own, remember. Look, Jenny, I know we’ve fallen out, but this is too serious to let that come between us. If I can help I will. Do you want to leave Toby here, you know, in case they come back?’

  ‘No, but thanks for offering. It’s the men who took him I need to find, then he’ll be safe.’

  ‘I can’t help you there, Jenny, it’s nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Think carefully, Yvonne. It has to be someone who knows that I deal in cash, who else could it be?’

  Yvonne’s face changes suddenly. Red flushes her cheeks, her eyes narrow. Her expression tells me everything I need to know. Yvonne reaches the same conclusion as I have. Her eyes fill with tears, she reaches out and draws me to her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she sobs.

  I receive her embrace, feel her bones through the thin dress, realise how frail she is, and try to impart some measure of comfort with my hug.

  66

  ‘Where to?’

  Monty starts the engine, and I pass him the address Yvonne has given me. Before I can speak, my phone rings. I answer quickly, thinking the unrecognised number must be Charles Smith with the intelligence I requested.

  ‘They’re going to kill me tonight, I’m sure of it, they are going to kill me.’ It’s a woman’s voice. I recover from my surprise and try to recognise who it is.

  ‘Kat?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes, can you hear me?’

  ‘Why do you think you’re in danger?’

  ‘Can you help? Please, I need help.’

  ‘Yes I can help, I’ll come and get you, where shall I come?’

  ‘Come quickly, please. You’re the only one who can help me.’ She gives me an address in Ardwick close to the place Alex and I once went in search for her. It makes me feel sad that she was once so close and sadder when I think of Alex and how he was the centre of my universe. The pain of loss is debilitating.

  ‘We’ll come right away,’ I say. ‘Can you keep the phone near you? We’ll ring when we’re outside.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ she says and hangs up.

  We’re still stationary outside Yvonne’s house and Monty is looking at me awaiting instructions. The call sounded desperate enough but I can’t help wondering if she’s been put up to it.

  ‘That was Kat,’ I say. Monty nods. ‘She’s in trouble, we need to fetch her right away.’

  I try to enter the address into the sat nav but I’m clumsy, shaking, and it all keeps going wrong. Finally I give up and recite it to Monty who manages first time.

  ‘Is she with your friend Wasiewicz?’ he says.

  ‘I don’t know who she’s with. All she said was that she thinks they’re going to kill her and she needs us to rescue her right away. I’m not entirely convinced this isn’t some sort of set-up but I’ve come this far with Kat. I can’t risk letting Lottie down.’

  ‘What about getting your money back?’

  ‘That’ll have to wait. You were right all along, it has to be Stefan. He’s the next on my list for a visit but Kat has to take priority now.’

  ‘I understand,’ Monty says, ‘but this might turn into a situation we can’t handle, not just the two of us.

  ‘So what else can we do?’

  ‘Call the police,’ Monty says. ‘Let them deal with it. If the girl’s in danger the police are the only option.’

  My thoughts turn to the ill-considered attempt I once persuaded Alex to get involved with. Then, I’d been convinced Kat was in that house and in danger. I crept in through the back door and ended up being physically and sexually assaulted before the police hauled me away and locked me up. In truth, I’m contemplating more of the same, only this time using Monty to protect me, as Alex so valiantly attempted but almost got himself killed in the process.

  ‘Do we really need them?’ I ask. ‘Can’t we see what we can do first? She may be able to slip away and all we’d have to do is give her a lift to her sister’s house.’

  ‘If she’s capable of getting away, she doesn’t need us, Jenny.’

  ‘Never mind, we can just take a look. I owe Lottie that much. Then we go after Stefan, find my money.’

  ‘Did Yvonne tell you it was him?’

  ‘She had no idea, Monty. When she realised it must be him she was shocked. I ended up feeling sorry for her.’

  ‘So tell the police about Kat, and let’s go pay Stefan a visit, see what he has to say for himself.’

  ‘No, Kat first, I promised I’d come for her.’

  ‘Look, Jenny, it’s nearly seven-thirty now. By the time we get to Ardwick it’ll be eight o’clock. Even if we encounter no trouble at all, we’ll do well to be back here before nine. Stefan and his mates will be long gone by then if they aren’t already.’

  ‘The money may be gone already, Monty. If it is Stefan, he’s probably done a runner. I doubt I’ll ever hear from him again. He knows I’ll be reluctant to involve the police, it makes sense that he’ll just clear out, take the money and get as far away from us as he can. If we’re right and it is Stefan who’s behind Toby’s kidnap I’ll be more relieved than anything.’

  ‘He’s got your money, or rather Lafferty’s money; isn’t that a problem though?’ Monty is already heading into Manchester at a rate of knots, pushing hard through the sparse traffic then opening up the throttle on the motorway. Meanwhile, I’m mulling over the implications, keeping my thoughts to myself. There’s something about Stefan’s situation that smells like an opportunity. All my instincts are to find him, make him suffer, punish him for my ordeal and Toby’s cruel handling. Now that Kat’s intervened, a germ of a better solution is beginning to grow in my mind, an alternative to my knee-jerk reaction that may pay long-term dividend
s. Another part of the plan begins to take form. If I play this one right, it could solve all my problems in one go.

  The sat nav insists we turn left off Ashton Old Road. Immediately we are faced by brand new apartments and maisonettes, brightly lit and cheerful in the gloom. As we progress, the new build continues on our left and provides a stark contrast to the older council houses opposite, half of which have doors and windows blocked by brown boarding. Hooded youths on tiny bicycles scurry around, weaving on and off the road in front of us, causing Monty to brake and swerve in order to avoid mowing them down.

  As they ride, they hold arms aloft, display two-fingered salutes, make angry faces, spit in our direction. Without Monty, I’d feel quite intimidated even though these boys are hardly twelve years old. As it is, we have to find Kat before it’s too late and we can’t afford any distractions, least of all one involving some child being knocked off his bike.

  The address Kat gave me is the end house on the right of a short cul-de-sac. Its immediate neighbour is boarded up. Of the old cars parked in the street, two have PL plates and one carries a B. I redial the number that Kat rang me on and listen to it ring. No answer. Then only a standard voice mail message.

  Monty turns the car around, drives out of the cul-de-sac and parks around the corner. The yobs have dispersed.

  ‘What now?’ I ask.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Monty says.

  ‘Come on now, you SAS types are supposed to be prepared for every eventuality. Surely you can think of some way to get in there and find Kat?’

  ‘Maybe if I were an SAS type I could, but I’m not.’