by Timlin, Mark
‘At least two weapons used, maybe more,’ said Sally Cooper. ‘Those two…’ she pointed at Ali and Geezer, ‘shotgunned, and him…’ she indicated Tommo lying on the floor, ‘handgun, I imagine. So that means there were at least two, maybe three or more, who knows? We’ll have a better idea after the PMs.’
‘Quite a party,’ said Sean.
‘Anything found?’ asked Childs.
‘Like?’ said Cooper.
‘Money or drugs. Weapons. Anything really.’
‘Not so far. But there’s plenty of illicit fags and booze from the Continent.’
‘So you think this was something to do with smuggling?’ asked Sean, hoping that it was.
‘I dunno,’ said Cooper. ‘No. My gut says drugs. I know French contraband is big business, but it doesn’t smell right. Anyway, Customs are coming down later. They might have some ideas. What about you?’
‘We’ll go and talk to Jenner again. By the way, are Area Drugs about?’
‘In the cafe on the corner. They want the bodies out of the way before they’ll soil their dainty little hands.’
‘Sounds about right,’ said Childs. ‘Always were squeamish buggers.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ said Cooper. ‘I was with them for three years.’
Sean smiled. Nice one, Bobby, he thought.
The three of them divested themselves of their coveralls and went looking for the drugs squad. They were indeed ensconced in a greasy spoon just across the road, two rough-looking individuals in scruffy clothes and two days’ growth of beard who welcomed Cooper like an old friend. ‘Christ, Sally. Be careful, they don’t serve croissants in here,’ said the most raggedy of the pair in a broad Welsh accent.
‘Graham, you look as lovely as ever,’ she said to the one who’d spoken. ‘Going to get me a cup of tea?’
‘Earl Grey?’
‘It’s getting old, Graham. Leave it.’
She introduced Pierce and Childs. Graham was Sergeant Graham Jackson, and his companion was DC Paul Brant.
Jackson sent Brant to the counter for refreshments and when he returned, the five of them huddled around a single table. ‘So,’ said DS Jackson. ‘What do you reckon?’
‘We’ve heard that a drug deal that went pearshaped down near Basingstoke three days ago was run by a bloke called John Jenner and that this is where the gear ended up,’ said Sean. ‘But you know all about that.’
Jackson shook his head. ‘It’s news to me.’
‘What?’ said Sean suddenly confused. ‘But it’s your snout gave us the info, surely.’
Again Jackson reacted negatively. ‘No mate, sorry. We’ve been rummaging around in Hackney for the past week helping out Operation Trident. We just got a call to come see what’s been did and what’s been hid with that trio of likely lads over the road. This is murder squad business. We’re just here to annoy Sally really.’
‘Christ,’ said Sean, looking at Childs in bewilderment. ‘Then whose fucking snout is it then? Sorry,’ he said to Sally.
‘I’ve heard the word before, DS Pierce.’
‘Sean, please.’
She smiled and Jackson, Brant and Childs all exchanged looks that Sean didn’t notice.
‘John Jenner, eh?’ said Jackson. ‘Bloody hell. I thought he was out of our hair for good.’
‘How come?’ asked Childs.
‘He’s got cancer,’ said Brant. ‘Terminal.’
‘Shit,’ said Childs. ‘And they told me there was no truth in the power of prayer. No wonder he looked so rough the other day.’
‘You’ve seen him?’ said Jackson.
‘Just for a minute. Renewing an old acquaintanceship, as it were.’
‘Do you reckon he’s got it in him to do that over there?’ Jackson stuck his thumb in the direction of the warehouse.
‘Doubtful,’ said Sean.
‘It doesn’t take a lot of strength to pull a trigger,’ said Sally Cooper.
‘No. That’s true,’ said Sean. ‘And it looks like there were at least two of them.’
‘He always had a gang,’ said Childs. ‘And that sod Chas has a mean streak.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ said Jackson shaking his head. ‘They were old mates, him and Ali and Tommo. They’ve been working together for more years than I’ve been in the job.’
‘When thieves fall out…’ said Sally.
‘No. It just doesn’t make sense, unless Ali or Tommo or both of them suddenly decided to turn Jenner over. But why would they? They’ve all been feathering their nests very nicely since God was a child, thank you. Why now? When Jenner’s on his last legs?’
‘Precisely,’ said Brant. ‘Now would be the best time.’
‘I still don’t see it,’ said Jackson. ‘I know it makes sense if you look at it that way. But Jenner’s is just a name that’s come up from Christ knows where. He’s been quiet for ages. There’s plenty of other villains who’d do those three over there for fourpence and never turn a hair.’
‘Well, we’d better get on, I think,’ said Sally Cooper, finishing her tea. ‘There’s going to be a mobile HQ on the carpark over there as soon as. My guv’nor and I will be running that in tandem with Brixton nick. You boys are more than welcome to hang around but you might be better served checking on your own snouts. What do you say?’
‘We say good riddance to the lot of them,’ said Graham Jackson. ‘We’ve got plenty enough to do without worrying about dead drug dealers. It’s the live ones we’re interested in. But we’ll keep in touch, Sally. Anything we hear we’ll pass on.’
‘That’ll be a first then,’ said Cooper,
‘Funny,’ said Jackson, and with a nod to each, he and Brant left.
‘Not much help, were they?’ said Childs.
Cooper wrinkled her nose. ‘Not much, but they’ve got some good intelligence and when they’re prepared to share they might come in useful.’
‘Did you believe that about it not being their snout who gave up the info?’ asked Childs.
‘I do, as it happens,’ said Sally Cooper. ‘Graham never was one for hiding his light. If it had been one of his, he’d’ve let us know soon enough.’
‘It’s a bloody mystery then, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t think there’s much for us here,’ said Sean. ‘We’ll leave you to it, Sally. But we’re going to have a good nose round over the next few days and we’ll check back.’
‘Thanks,’ said Sally Cooper. ‘You do that.’
The three of them went out into the freezing morning and parted company by the police lines. ‘Don’t be a stranger now, Sean,’ said Sally Cooper as she ducked under the tape.
The two cops watched her walk away and even under the thick clothing she wore they could see that her figure was quite something.
‘You’ve pulled there, son,’ said Childs.
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Sean, but he’d felt it too. He’d have to do some checking on Sally Cooper to see if she was available or just flirting.
They drove back to Streatham in silence. ‘Shall we have a word with Jenner again?’ asked Childs on the way.
‘No,’ said Sean. ‘Lets see what’s going on back at the factory first.’
‘Do you think it is contraband?’ asked Childs. ‘Don’t forget the French-registered Range Rover Jenner’s got.’
‘Could be. Mention it again to Customs if you like.’
‘Fuck ‘em,’ said Childs. ‘Miserable bastards won’t return my calls. Let them work it out for themselves.’
* * *
Mark stayed in bed late that morning. He didn’t want to face anyone. All he could think of as he lay in his bed was his meeting with Linda that afternoon and what had happened the night before with Martine. Maybe he should’ve been kinder in his rejection. Or maybe he should’ve let her have her way with him. He knew it wasn’t the end of the matter, and whatever way he’d played it, trouble would surely follow.
Around twelve, his door burst open and John Jenner came in waving the e
arly edition of the Standard. ‘What the fuck did you do?’ he demanded.
‘What?’ said Mark, sitting up in bed, assuming Jenner was talking about the previous evening’s disaster with Martine. But he threw the paper on to the bed open at page three. The headline read:
SLAUGHTER AT LOUGHBOROUGH JUNCTION
Mark picked it up and read the piece. ‘Christ,’ he said. ‘Is this who I think it is?’
‘Yes,’ said Jenner. ‘And they were killed the day you collected the cash. Did you do it? You were carrying.’
‘No,’ said Mark. ‘Course I bloody didn’t. What do you think I am?’
‘I know what you are,’ said Jenner. ‘Did you do it?’
‘What? Kill the lot of them? I don’t think so.’
‘Get up and get dressed. I want to talk to you downstairs,’ said Jenner and he stomped out of the room.
Mark read the story again and his stomach churned as he took in the details. Christ, he thought. It must’ve happened just after I left.
He could still smell Martine’s musky perfume on him, so he went to the bathroom and washed and shaved, before getting dressed and going down to the living room where John Jenner and Chas were waiting for him. Before he left his room, he stripped the bed and threw the sheets into the washing basket.
‘Look, Uncle,’ he said when he got down there. ‘This was nothing to do with me.’
‘Course it wasn’t,’ said Chas, but Mark could see that Jenner was still in a rage.
‘Don’t you believe me?’ Mark asked him. ‘What possible reason could I have for doing it?’
‘A quarter million quid’s worth of charlie,’ said Jenner. Suddenly he exhaled. ‘Sorry, Mark,’ he said, ‘I know it wasn’t you, it’s just I’ve known those three for more years than I care to remember. It was a shock. We were friends. I even went to Tommo’s youngest’s christening or whatever they call it in Muslim.
‘I know, Uncle,’ said Mark. ‘But it must’ve happened just after I left. It didn’t say anything about any drugs on the premises in the paper.’
‘Fat chance. Whoever did this had them away.’
‘Who do you reckon?’ asked Chas.
‘Dunno,’ replied Jenner. ‘But I’m bloody sure I’m going to find out. Mark, I want you to go and have a look see.’
‘What? With half the Bill in south London on site? I don’t think so. Anyway, what the fuck will I be able to find out?’
‘I don’t know. I just want you to go. This afternoon.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’ve got an appointment.’
‘What? With the bloody dentist? Cancel the fucker.’
‘No.’
‘It’s that fucking Linda Pierce or whatever she calls herself now, ain’t it?’
‘That’s none of your business.’
‘But this is our fucking business. If they killed Ali and the rest they could come here next.’
‘That’s what you haven’t been telling me about, isn’t it, Uncle? Whoever’s out there, killing people. That’s why you’ve got a car full of security parked outside night and day. Well, if you’re not prepared to fill me in, I’m not prepared to run your sodding errands for you.’ And with that, Mark grabbed his coat and keys and left.
It had started raining again and the bare branches were dripping. Mark felt as if it rained every day of his life. A few days ago, things had been simple. The scruffy flat in Canvey, his battered TV and his record collection. Fish and chips and a harmless flirtation with the girl behind the counter. No worries, no stress, as long as he didn’t dwell too long on the past. But now the past had come back and hit him four square between the eyes. He could just piss off and get lost again, or he could face up to who he was, and what he was and maybe make something of his life at last.
He arrived at Linda’s flat in Balham at the appointed time and pressed the bell. The traffic on the main road made hearing anything inside impossible and he wondered if she’d stood him up. He jiggled from foot to foot nervously as the rain fell.
Suddenly the door opened and she was there, dressed in a long dark blue overcoat. ‘You came,’ she said.
‘You knew I would. I just wondered if you’d be here.’
‘When did I ever let you down?’
He didn’t answer.
‘Well, are you coming in?’ she said. ‘It’s freezing out.’ He entered and she shut the door behind him. They were standing in a small hall no bigger than a telephone booth. In the corner was a stack of envelopes thrown higgledy piggledy. Mail for previous tenants, he guessed. A flight of carpeted stairs led upwards. ‘Come on up,’ she said. ‘Mind you, it’s freezing indoors too. I’ve put on the heating but it’ll take a bit of time to warm up.’
‘I don’t mind,’ said Mark.
He followed her up the single flight, then through another door, down a corridor and into a simply furnished living room. Linda felt the radiator by the door and said, ‘That’s better. It’ll be all right in a few minutes.’
She sat on a sofa and Mark, divested of his coat, took the armchair opposite. The curtains were open and the rain bounced off the window sill outside. The windows themselves had been fitted with double glazing, which muted the sound of the traffic and the rain.
‘Nice place,’ he said.
‘No it’s not,’ she replied. ‘It’s a cheap conversion, the floorboards are warped and the roof leaks. But I don’t care. Why should I?’
Mark felt there was no answer to that.
‘So,’ she said. ‘You wanted to talk to me.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Well, go on then. I’m listening.’
‘I don’t know where to start.’
‘Start with you coming looking for me when I was fifteen and still at school.’
‘I wanted to see what the children of the bloke who’d killed my father looked like, you know that.’
‘You wanted revenge. And I fell for you, and you so kindly broke the news to me one afternoon after we’d made love.’
‘I blew it.’
‘And making me fall in love with you, then dumping me, was that the revenge you were looking for?’
‘No. I fell in love with you too. The first day I saw you. You know that too.’
‘You had a funny way of showing it, I must say.’
‘I showed it by keeping on at you to come back.’
‘You did, didn’t you.’
Mark had refused to give up after Linda had walked out on him that day at the hotel.
He’d never had her home phone number, since she wanted to keep their affair secret from her family, and she’d always called him. So, at the beginning of the new term, he started hanging around the school again, parking his car outside the gates. Stalking, they’d call it now. Mark couldn’t have cared less: he wanted her back and intended to get her. But she ignored him. The school even called the cops, and Mark had to stand ignominiously in the fine drizzle one January morning as two uniforms spun his car in front of an interested audience of school kids. Not that there was anything to find. Mark was smarter than that. But it was a drag all the same, the cops grinning at the state of him and taking the piss big time.
But it was the ever dependable Brenda who saved the day once again. She phoned him one afternoon in February. ‘How did you get my number?’ he asked.
‘I looked in Linda’s book,’ she said. ‘You two, what are you like?’
‘I messed up, Brenda,’ he said. ‘It’s my fault.’
‘What happened?’
‘That’s a bit personal,’ he said.
‘All right, don’t tell me. But she’s missing you like mad.’
‘She told you that?’
‘She doesn’t have to. She’s lost weight, and her school work’s gone down the pan.’
‘So what do I do?’
‘Come round my house Saturday night. My folks are away, and Linda’s sleeping over. You can see her then. If she’ll let you, that is.’
She gave him an address in Purley and he wrote it down.
‘And she will be there?’ he said.
Brenda giggled. ‘Do you think I’m inviting you round to have my evil way with you? Don’t flatter yourself.’
‘Sorry, Brenda.’
‘Not that I wouldn’t, if it was anyone else but Linda. But you’re safe. Come about eight.’
Mark presented himself at the door the next Saturday evening, eight on the dot, still half expecting that it was a practical joke. Brenda answered the door and said: ‘She’s in the kitchen. I’ll be upstairs. Don’t break any furniture or crockery.’
He kissed the girl on the cheek and she blushed. She wasn’t half bad, as it happened, but she wasn’t Linda.
Linda was in the kitchen drying up some dishes when Mark walked in. ‘Who is it, Bren?’ she asked. When she turned she dropped the plate she was holding, and if Mark’s reflexes had been any slower, crockery indeed would have been broken. But he caught it a foot from the floor and handed it back to her.
‘Surprise,’ he said.
‘What are you doing here?’ demanded Linda, then light dawned. ‘That bloody Brenda.’
‘I had to see you.’
‘I thought the police warned you off.’
‘Bloody Old Bill. Whose idea was that, anyway?’
‘The headmaster’s. Mr Barnes.’
‘You’ve lost weight,’ he said.
‘I’m smoking too much.’
‘I miss you, Linda.’
‘Do you? The daughter of your father’s killer?’
‘Christ, I’m sorry I told you. Or at least I’m sorry I told you the way I did. It was stupid.’
‘Unfeeling, I’d call it.’
‘I know.’
‘Then why?’
‘Because I couldn’t go on lying to you.’
‘Oh, Mark.’
‘Linda. Can we try it once more? It’s all out in the open now.’
‘You hurt me.’
‘I know. Do your folks know?’
‘Only Sean. He was the only one I could tell. He wanted to go round and bash you up.’
‘I deserved it.’
‘At least you didn’t czome to my house.’
‘I wouldn’t do that.’
‘Barnes wanted to tell my dad, but I begged him not to.’
‘What did you say?’