Broken Dreams

by Nick Quantrill

  ‘Did you know he managed her band?’

  ‘Not as such.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I didn’t really ask any questions about it. Donna wouldn’t have listened to me, anyway.’

  I pointed to the bruises on my face. ‘‘It’s best you leave him alone. The police are well aware of him. Leave it to them.’

  Derek shook his head. ‘Somebody’s got to do something.’

  I could tell Sarah had been crying. Her eyes were red and she had a tissue in her hand. I smiled and held the bottle of wine aloft. ‘Can I come in?’

  She stood aside and let me in. I walked into the kitchen and found the corkscrew and two clean glasses. She was sat on the couch in the front room, legs tucked under her chin. I passed her a glass. ‘It wasn’t your fault’ I said.

  ‘Yes it was.’

  I took a sip of wine and shook my head. ‘Really, it’s not.’

  ‘Whose fault was it, then?’

  ‘Nobody’s fault. I had no idea Lisa Day was still in touch with Donna, either. Nobody knew.’

  She blew her nose. ‘It doesn’t make it any easier.’

  ‘You live and learn.’ I knew how true that statement was after investigating my wife’s death. I had no experience and didn’t know what I was getting into. You’ve got to learn the rules of the game. I told Sarah what I’d learnt about Donna’s brother, Jimmy.

  ‘A drug addict’ she said. ‘It certainly explains why she was wrapped in cotton wool.’

  I felt bad for Jimmy. It seemed like he had never stood a chance. We were a similar age and we’d both grown up in a decaying city which offered little. I had been fortunate and lost myself in rugby, and for all the pain it caused me, I’d also got some priceless moments to look back on. I’d never known the despair of drug addiction or experienced the knowledge life wasn’t going to offer you anything. I poured us another glass of wine. ‘Are you working tomorrow?’ I asked.

  ‘If Dad’ll have me.’

  ‘Course he will. You’ve got to remember she played all of us, not just you.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  Sarah leant across and squeezed my hand. ‘Thanks, Joe.’

  I turned to face her and smiled. ‘All part of the service.’

  She kissed me gently on the lips.

  I picked up my glass and found an empty corner of the pub. I didn’t know how I was supposed to react when Sarah had kissed me. I wasn’t sure if I was overreacting and reading too much into it, but I needed to get out of her house and have a think about what had happened. I swallowed a mouthful of lager and wondered if it meant anything. I knew there was more to consider than simply kissing her back. There was our professional relationship to think about. There was also our friendship to consider, and Don. More importantly, there was Debbie to think about. Would she be happy for me? I finished my pint and went back to the bar for another. I listened to the acoustic artist the pub had performing in the corner. Normally, his unusual songs about doomed World War One soldiers and life’s drifters would have interested me, but not tonight. I put a flyer in my pocket and decided I’d look him up another time. It was time to go home.

  Alcohol wasn’t what I needed. It had been tempting to stay in the pub all night, listening to the music, but going home was the right thing to do. I could close the curtains, darken the room and put some music on low. Then I could think rationally about what I should do. It was a ten minute walk to the flat from the pub and the fresh air felt like it was doing me some good. I fumbled in my pocket for the door key and became aware of a presence behind me. I took a deep breath and turned around, ready for the worst.

  ‘Now then, Joe.’

  I took a step back, so I could see who it was. ‘The wanderer returns,’ I said to Christopher Murdoch.

  He waved a bottle of Jack Daniels at me. ‘Can I come up?’

  I stood my ground, not really in the mood to deal with him. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want to talk you.’

  I closed the door to my flat and rinsed out two glasses. Murdoch passed me the bottle and I poured us both generous measures. We took them into the front room and sat down.

  ‘Where have you been? I asked.

  ‘Here and there.’

  I put my glass down and told him not to fuck with me. I was beyond the point of caring.

  ‘Amsterdam. I jumped on the ferry and had a couple of nights away. I needed to get my head together.’

  I laughed. I didn’t mean to, but the situation was so ridiculous. ‘You’re the chief suspect in your wife’s murder.’

  Murdoch shrugged. ‘I thought you could handle it for me.’

  ‘You thought I could handle it for you?’ I was shouting. ‘What made you think that? You’ve told me nothing, given me no help.’ I calmed myself down. ‘You’re taking the piss out of me.’ I swallowed the drink and put my glass down. ‘Why should I work for you?’

  ‘Because you understand me, Joe. You know what it’s like to be accused of something you didn’t do. I didn’t kill my wife. It maybe doesn’t look good, but it’s the truth. I needed to get away, clear my head and come back ready to sort this mess out.’ He was silent until I looked at him. ‘I’m sorry for running away, but I didn’t kill her. You’ve got to trust me on that.’ He took his cheque book out. ‘How much do you want?’

  I snorted and waved away the cheque. ‘Trust you? I haven’t heard from you for days and I’ve got the police breathing down my neck. Do you understand how your disappearing act makes you look?’

  ‘I know.’ He poured us another drink. ‘It doesn’t look great.’

  ‘Have you told the police you’re back?’

  Murdoch shook his head.

  ‘Jane?’

  ‘No.’

  Nobody knew he was back in Hull. It was a chance for me to ask my questions. I asked him if he knew Dave Johnson.

  ‘Name doesn’t ring a bell.’

  ‘Don’t bullshit me. He works for Frank Salford at the casino.’ I described Johnson to him.

  Murdoch admitted he knew who I was talking about. ‘I’m not on first name terms with him, though.’

  He picked up a handful of my CDs. ‘What is this stuff?’

  I ignored him. ‘What’s going on at the casino?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Why was your wife allowed to run up large debts in the place?’

  ‘I don’t know. It wasn’t any of my business. She wasn’t the kind of person who would ask for help. She was independent.’

  ‘But she asked for your help?’

  ‘Eventually she did, but I wasn’t much good to her, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘She wanted money and I didn’t have any to give her.’

  ‘No money?’ I thought back to my visit to his office. It was state of the art. He certainly looked like a successful businessman on paper. ‘You’re skint?’

  ‘I don’t have access to the kind of money she wanted.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I assume Salford wants his money back?’

  ‘I would assume so, but I couldn’t really tell you. Jennifer dealt with him and kept it to herself.’

  ‘I warned you, don’t bullshit me.’ I could feel the anger rising again. ‘I was dragged out of Hull to a field with a freshly dug grave and told quite clearly to mind my own business.’ I was specifically told you and your wife were off-limits and I want to know why.’

  ‘I’ve no idea. She owed them some money, that’s all.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ I leant forward. ‘I don’t mind telling you, I was shitting myself. These aren’t people you mess with. Do you know about Frank Salford?’ I asked, but didn’t give him time to answer. ‘His speciality is to bury alive those who cross him.’

  Murdoch was silent. I took another big slug of bourbon. ‘Johnson is his right hand man, and if anything, he’s even more violent. These kind of people don’t play ga
mes. If they’re warning me off, they’ve got good reason to.’

  ‘I don’t know what my wife was involved in’ he whispered.

  ‘I don’t believe you. Jane said you’ve been acting strangely at work. I was on a roll and I wasn’t letting him off the hook.

  ‘I’ve just lost my wife.’

  ‘Before then. She said you weren’t acting normally; disappearing all the time and not telling anyone where you were going.’ I poured another drink. ‘What changed?’

  ‘It’s a stressful job. I have a lot of responsibilities to a lot of different people. You wouldn’t understand.’

  I laughed. ‘Try me.’

  Murdoch shook his head. ‘It’s nothing really, the normal stresses of the job, that’s all.’

  I nodded, but I didn’t believe him. I pressed on. ‘You like the massage parlours, don’t you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Massage parlours, paying women for sex. That’s your kind of thing, isn’t it?’

  Murdoch laughed and put his glass down. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I saw you.’

  Murdoch looked crestfallen. ‘It’s just a massage. What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Massage?’

  ‘It’s all perfectly above board.’

  ‘I said don’t fuck me about.’

  Murdoch drained his glass and laughed. ‘So what? I like to have sex. It’s hardly a crime, is it?’

  It wasn’t a crime, but I knew the city had countless massage parlours, and he’d chosen Frank Salford’s place. He still wasn’t telling me the whole truth. I passed him the Jack Daniel’s back and told him to get out of my flat. I’d had enough of the man. ‘I don’t act for you anymore.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I hadn’t slept well after Murdoch had left my flat. I’d eventually given up and sat in the front room with a pot of coffee and a book. As usual, I’d started to fall sleep just as it was time for my alarm to go off. Arriving at the office early, I threw the newspaper onto my desk and sat down to catch up on the police’s progress in finding Jennifer Murdoch’s killer. The lead story amounted to little more than a thinly disguised attack on her husband, but I wasn’t too bothered. There was little which was new.

  I said hello to Sarah when she arrived and busied myself on my computer. I could hear her making coffee and contemplated what I should do.

  She passed me my mug and smiled. ‘Get home okay last night?’

  ‘Murdoch was waiting for me on my doorstep.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Said he’d been away for a couple of days, needed to get his head sorted.’

  ‘Doesn’t look good though, does it?’

  ‘Not really.’

  Don arrived, poured himself a drink and joined us. I told him about Murdoch’s visit.

  ‘I don’t think we’re acting for him now’ I explained. ‘He’s still holding back on me. He’s still claiming he knows nothing about Frank Salford.’

  ‘If he won’t co-operate with us, it’s pointless’ said Don. ‘We can’t help him. It’s as simple as that.’

  Don had never been keen on me taking the case, but he could have tried to hide his glee a little better.

  ‘I’ll send him his money back’ I said.

  ‘Don’t be sending it all back, though. We’ve spent legitimate time on him.’ He passed me the electricity bill which had arrived in the morning’s post.

  I nodded. ‘Right.’

  The phone rang and Sarah gave us the thumbs up. I watched her start to take the caller’s details down. Don leant forward and lowered his voice. ‘Sarah told me about Lisa Day.’

  I shrugged. ‘Wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t to know we were being taken for a ride.’

  ‘I think she’s embarrassed.’

  ‘I’ve already told her she shouldn’t be. It’s helped us get closer to the truth, which is what we all want. Did she tell you about Donna’s brother?’

  Don nodded. ‘Terrible business.’

  I looked at my watch. It was time to see Maria Platt.

  Sarah offered to put the kettle on. I knew she was still embarrassed over what had happened in Whitby, but mentioning it would only make things worse. Maria Platt sat in front of me, close to her fireplace. She was pale and still in her dressing gown. She looked worse than the last time I’d seen her.

  ‘I assume you know why we’re here’ I said, once Sarah returned to the room.

  Maria Platt nodded. ‘My brother told me.’

  Derek Jones had beaten me there. His nephew was on the agenda, so I ran with it. ‘Why didn’t you tell us about Jimmy?’ I asked.

  ‘I was ashamed’ she eventually replied. ‘My son was a junkie and he died. I don’t like talking to people about it.’

  I got the message and let Sarah continue with the questions.

  ‘We know it’s difficult for you’ Sarah said. ‘But we need to talk about it. The death of her brother must have hit her hard.’

  ‘It did hit her hard. Jimmy was her hero; she’d follow him around everywhere, even though there was a few years between them. He loved looking after her, too. He was great with his brother and sister.’

  ‘But then Jimmy got into drugs?’

  ‘It changed him. The Jimmy I knew died the first time he took that muck. We tried to help, we really did. We even locked him in a bedroom and stood guard over him in an attempt to get him to kick the stuff. It didn’t work, though. He got out through a window. There was nothing we could do. He didn’t want to help himself.’

  ‘How did your husband react?’ I asked her.

  ‘Ron was angry, like I was’ she said. ‘But he was our son. We loved him and tried to help him best we could, but it wasn’t easy.’

  ‘I assume it scarred you both?’

  ‘We lost a child. What do you think?’

  I stood up and walked across to the mantelpiece to look at photographs of Jimmy. I found one at the back, probably in his early teens, looking smart in his school uniform. Nearer the front were photographs of Ron with various ships and crews. I bent down to read the names and noted several of them reoccurred over the years. Long lasting ties, I assumed. I bet they could tell some stories. One of the names was Briggs, and looking closer I could tell it was a brother of Terrence Briggs. Remembering he had photographs of trawlers on his walls, I asked if I could borrow it to take a copy. I knew if my uncle was alive, he’d be interested at looking at the faces. I must be softening, because I thought Briggs would be the same.

  I sat back down and thanked her. I tried to sound conciliatory. ‘We all lose people we love, but we deal with it in different ways, don’t we? I don’t mean to upset you, but I want to know how your husband reacted. Did it change his relationship with Donna?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Did he become more protective towards her as she grew up?’

  ‘It was only natural.’

  ‘Perfectly understandable.’ I put my mug down. ‘How did he react to Donna’s pregnancy?’ It was a question she wasn’t expecting.

  ‘How do you know?’ she asked.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  She sighed, accepting the point. ‘Nothing really matters to me now other than seeing Donna again.’

  ‘We’re trying our best’ Sarah said.

  We’d agreed not to mention Whitby yet in case we got her hopes up.

  ‘Donna was fifteen when she was pregnant. It took her months to tell me, her own mother. She was scared and didn’t know what to do. I found out eventually and she broke down in tears when I confronted her. She thought I’d be ashamed of her, but I couldn’t be ashamed of my own daughter. Truth be told, I was angry at first, but it was only because I wanted the best for her. I didn’t want her to make the same mistakes as I had.’

  ‘What happened?’ Sarah asked. I was doing the maths. We weren’t talking about Donna’s daughter, Chelsea.

  ‘She had an abortion.’

  I looked away as Maria Platt start
ed to cry. Sarah sat next to her and comforted her.

  ‘I promised Donna I wouldn’t tell her dad, but I broke my word. He had a right to know.’

  ‘How did he react?’ I asked.

  ‘He went mad, saying she’d let us down. He couldn’t believe it. Donna wouldn’t tell him who the father was, which just made it worse. She eventually told me it was a boy in her class at school, but it wouldn’t have done Ron any good knowing. I took Donna to the clinic for the abortion but Ron wouldn’t come. Things weren’t the same after that.’

  ‘Was that the last of it?’ I asked. We weren’t talking about Donna’s daughter, Chelsea, but I didn’t really want to make any trouble for Lisa Day.

  Maria Platt shook her head. ‘No. Donna fell pregnant again.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Just before she left.’

  ‘How did her father react?’

  ‘Badly.’

  I waited for her to compose herself.

  ‘He hit the roof, saying she was ruining her life and not learning from her mistakes.’

  ‘I would have thought he’d have been pleased. It would have stopped her singing in the clubs?’

  ‘I think Ron thought he could stop her doing it. He was worried we’d have another mouth to feed and no money. He wanted Donna to have another abortion. He reckoned she’d only attract losers if she had a kid to be thinking of.’

  I glanced at Sarah. ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’

  ‘That’s how he felt. I tried to persuade him, but he wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t accept she was pregnant. She told him she was keeping the baby.’

  ‘Wouldn’t Tim have stood by her? I would have thought Ron would have been happy for that to happen?’

  ‘Donna said she didn’t want anything more to do with Tim. She said he was too boring for her. They had a massive row and he told her she couldn’t stay in our house with the kid.’

  ‘So she left?’

  Maria Platt gave me the slightest of nods and turned away from me.

  I sat at my desk, staring at the photograph Maria Platt had lent to me. I knew I still needed to tell Briggs about his auditor and the photograph was giving me the kick-start I needed. I also still had questions for him and couldn’t leave it alone. I finished my coffee and stared at my laptop. The initial excitement of locating Donna Platt had evaporated. We were back to square one. All we could hope was that she made her way back to Whitby and our man heard about it. Sarah would keep chasing and pushing where she could.