Broken Dreams

by Nick Quantrill

  He was in his mid-fifties, which was no age to die, but I didn’t feel particularly sorry for the man. How could I?

  ‘This is the time for me to get my affairs in order. I’m not going to bullshit you – I’ve not been a good person. I’ve done some pretty bad things, but the one thing I can do is make sure my daughter is sorted.’ He pointed to me. ‘And you can do that for me.’

  My mind was racing, playing with theories and ideas and the things we’d said. ‘Murdoch was wrong, wasn’t he? You didn’t kill his wife.’

  Salford shook his head. ‘I didn’t kill her.’

  I slugged the whiskey back in one and stood up, ready to leave. I knew Salford wasn’t responsible for my wife’s death, either.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  I strode through the reception, ignoring the woman shouting at me to stop. I walked straight up the stairs and opened the first door I came to. Not finding what I wanted, I repeated the same thing with the next two doors. Entering the fourth door, I found what I wanted. Johnson was in bed with one of the workers. The room was disgusting; everything looked like it needed a good wash, especially the sheets. The wallpaper was peeling in the corners and the lighting was dim. If it had been designed to hurry up the punters, I’m sure it worked. Nobody would want to spend any more time in this room than necessary.

  ‘We tried to stop him’ Margaret said, as she entered the room behind me. ‘I wasn’t on reception when he came in.’

  She looked flustered, knowing she was in trouble. The woman appalled me. I turned to her and told her to fuck off. Johnson got out of bed and stood naked in front of me, unsure what his next move should be. He turned to the young girl trying to hide under the bedding and told her to disappear.

  He laughed. ‘What can I do for you today? Have you being having a think about our meeting the other day? If so, I’m pleased, but it’s really not the time for business.’

  ‘I wanted to speak to you before the police pick you up.’

  He laughed again. ‘Why would they be doing that?’

  ‘Murdoch expects to be arrested today.’

  ‘He best have his story straight, then.’

  Johnson got dressed as spoke to me.

  ‘I think he has.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘How did you force him to work for you?’

  ‘I didn’t need to force him.’

  ‘His choice?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Not once you’d allowed his wife to run up large debts in the casino. You made it sound like his only way out of the situation was to do as he was told.’

  ‘He could have repaid the money and we’d have been cool. He wanted to get involved.’

  ‘How much pressure did you put on Jennifer? You obviously like to sample the goods?’

  ‘She was a very attractive woman.’

  I waited for him to finish buttoning his shirt. I wanted his full attention. ‘Did you kill her?’

  Johnson laughed. ‘Don’t be stupid. I don’t go around killing people.’

  I let it hang in the air.

  ‘She wouldn’t touch you, would she?’ I said. ‘She took one look at you, and she didn’t want to know. You repulsed her.’

  He took a step towards me. ‘You watch your mouth, cunt. You’re in my place and nobody knows you’re here. You’ll be lucky if I let you walk out again. This time I might well bury you alive.’

  It was my turn to laugh. ‘You went to her house, determined to have your own way with her, and she told you to leave.’

  ‘Is that right?’

  ‘And when she laughed in your face, you lost it, because that’s what you do. You killed her there and then and tried to cover your tracks. All because she said no to you.’

  ‘You know nothing.’

  Johnson was where I wanted him. He’d turned away to find his shoes, no doubt convinced I was throwing around groundless accusations, no threat to him. I waited for him to turn back towards me. ‘You didn’t kill Jennifer Murdoch, but you did kill my wife’ I said.

  Johnson stared at me, momentarily lost for words. ‘Says who?’

  ‘Says me. I’ve been talking to Salford.’

  Johnson sneered. ‘What would he know?’

  ‘More than you think. He’s done, isn’t he? He’ll be dead soon, but he’s not stupid.’

  He walked away from the window and sat down on the bed. ‘If you think you know, what are you doing here?’

  There was a hint of defeat in his voice, the realisation he hadn’t always been one step ahead of the game.

  ‘I want to hear it from you’ I said.

  ‘You won’t make anything stick.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’ I walked over to the window, but there was nothing to see. I thought about Salford telling me about wider business interests. ‘Salford saw you coming and let you draw Jennifer Murdoch in at the casino. He gave you enough rope to hang yourself with.’ I turned back towards him. ‘Why did you go behind his back?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘The money? You thought Murdoch was a soft touch?’

  ‘He is a soft touch. In fact, he’s surprised me with his weakness. I thought he’d do a little better because it wasn’t that hard for him. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut and follow instructions.’

  ‘But Salford was able to see it. He knew Murdoch wasn’t going to deliver.’

  ‘Judgement call, that’s all.’

  ‘But his call was right.’ I waited for him to look at me. ‘Again.’ Johnson looked like a beaten man. ‘You knew he was dying?’ I asked.

  He sprung back to life, defiance on his face. ‘What do you think? I’m sick of being the fucking joke in that place. I’m always his number two, always following orders. Fuck that – I want a piece of the action. I want to be the one calling the shots and making the decisions for a change. Besides, who the fuck are you? You’re some failed rugby player who thinks he can call the shots over me. Are you taking the piss?’

  I ignored him and continued. ‘And you thought this was your chance to step up to the plate?’

  ‘If you don’t make your move, somebody else will do it for you.’

  ‘Salford saw the stupidity of working with Murdoch and he didn’t want to know.’

  Johnson stood up, pacing the room. ‘He’s gone soft. Has been for years. He wants to be legitimate, but fuck that.’ His eyes were ablaze, putting me on my guard. ‘It’s wrong. It’s not how we made our reputations in this city. People expect better of you than opening a fucking casino.’ He sat back down and rested his head in his hands. ‘Fuck that.’

  ‘My wife was the collateral damage for you’ I said, turning away from him. He said nothing. Johnson was nothing. Salford was a career criminal but Johnson had only ever been his sidekick, the required muscle to get the dirty work done. It went all the way back to their days as young football hooligans. Julie Richardson had told me that. What Johnson was starting to realise was that things would never change. He thought he’d found some easy pickings when Murdoch and his wife walked into the casino. He had no understanding of the complexity and the details of the regeneration plan. If he thought he could mastermind such an operation, he was stupid. If he thought he could do it on the back of Salford’s reputation and without his knowledge, he was deluded.

  I stood up and walked towards the door before turning back to take one last look at Johnson, the man who’d caused my wife’s death. He’d go to prison for a long time, but his real punishment would be the knowledge he’d failed. He’d never be Frank Salford. That would be what haunted him. My grieving would come, but seeing him crushed would be some small compensation. ‘You’re done’ I said, as I walked out of the room.

  Sarah and I were back where we started; sat with Maria Platt and Derek Jones. This time Gary Platt had joined us. I sipped my coffee, letting the news I’d given them sink in.

  ‘Do you think Donna will change her mind?’ Derek asked us.

  Sarah leant forward. ‘We know she
misses Hull. Maybe one day.’

  ‘Soon?’ Maria asked.

  I sighed. ‘I’m sorry, but I really don’t think so.’ I understood why Sarah was trying to give them some hope, but it wasn’t fair.

  ‘Donna made it very clear to us she wasn’t happy in Hull’ I explained. Sarah had turned away, retreating back into her seat. ‘She’s built a new life for herself.’

  ‘Where is she?’ Gary asked.

  It was a reasonable request, and he was her brother, but I shook my head. ‘I can’t tell you that.’

  ‘We need to know.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Why did she leave, then?’ Gary asked.

  I knew Sarah was staring at me. I swallowed and thought about how far I wanted to go. ‘Her music.’ It wasn’t a lie, but it barely scratched the surface. They didn’t need to know about Salford. I’d argued with Sarah over whether we should tell them about Chelsea. I didn’t think we should tell them, as Donna clearly didn’t want any contact. I knew it was harsh, but there wasn’t an easy answer.

  ‘Was it because of dad?’ he asked.

  We sat looking at each other. Derek nodded at me, clearing me to tell them what I knew. ‘He was a factor in her decision’ I said.

  ‘Not surprised’ said Gary.

  Sarah and I said nothing. I didn’t know what they wanted to hear.

  ‘Did she go to London?’ Derek asked.

  ‘She didn’t quite make it that far’ I said.

  ‘But she’s alright?’ Maria asked.

  I turned to her and smiled, thankful she wasn’t pushing for information. ‘She’s fine’ I said. ‘She’s happy.’

  Maria nodded and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. ‘Good.’

  I leant forward again, looking directly at her, trying to get what I wanted to say straight in my head. ‘There’s some things you can’t fix,’ I said, ‘decisions you can’t go back and change.’ I was thinking of Debbie. ‘You have to live with them the best you can.’

  I’d told Sarah what I’d learnt about my wife’s death. She had wanted me to go home and let her deal with Maria Platt. It wasn’t an option. I wanted to finish what we’d started.

  ‘Thank you’ Maria said. ‘I appreciate all your efforts in finding her. I’m pleased to hear she’s well. I know I don’t have much time left and I can’t pretend I’m not upset by her decision, but I need to put my affairs in order. I was hoping you could persuade her and whatever family she has to come home. Even if it was just for a quick visit.’ Tears were rolling down her face. ‘Have you ever lost someone important to you, Mr Geraghty?’

  I nodded. ‘My wife.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that’ she said. ‘You know that there are no words to describe how you feel on the inside. You have to put a brave face on things, but it eats you up. I was hoping for a second chance to make it better, that’s all. I’ll have to live with the guilt of what I’ve done until I die.’

  Nobody said anything until Derek asked if Donna still sung.

  ‘Not seriously’ I said.

  ‘A broken dream, then’ Derek said.

  I nodded and turned to Sarah. We were done. I had Salford’s cheque for Donna. We still had one last chance to persuade her to see her mother before she died. I turned back to Maria Platt. ‘We’ve got another case on the go at the moment.’ I explained about Jennifer Murdoch. ‘If it’s any consolation, you’ve helped me get to the bottom of it.’

  She gently shook her head. She’d lost her daughter. It was no consolation.

  The rain beat down on the car whilst we discussed the information Sarah had dug out for me. I thought about calling Coleman so he could make the arrest, but he could wait - I wanted to hear it first-hand before the police got involved. Sarah was needed at home, and she pointed out, it was my case, so I should be the one to close it. We agreed I’d drop by her house later on, to tell her and Don how it had gone. I glanced back at Maria Platt’s house before starting the car up and pulling away. The Platt family hadn’t ever caught a single break.

  I waited for his reaction. He stood with his back to me, saying nothing.

  ‘You killed Jennifer Murdoch’ I repeated. ‘And I know why you killed her.’

  He turned to face me and laughed. ‘No you don’t.’

  ‘Fill me in, then.’

  The telephone rang, but he ignored it, instead turning to face me. He shrugged. ‘You gave me the information I needed. Ironic, I suppose.’

  That much was true and made it all the more sickening. It was the reason why I hadn’t asked Don to come along. He didn’t need to hear how we’d set the wheels in motion, however inadvertently.

  ‘It must have been really eating you up’ I said.

  ‘Like you wouldn’t believe. You don’t let these things go. You never forget. Or forgive.’

  ‘It wasn’t her fault.’

  ‘She was the best option.’

  I shook my head. ‘It wasn’t her fault.’

  ‘You never forgive.’

  I threw the photograph at Briggs. ‘Tell me about your brother.’

  I sat down at the boardroom table and listened. ‘Sid was three years older than me. He couldn’t wait to go to sea and he was good at it, too. A natural. He was cut out for a life at sea. It was hard work for him, but unlike a lot of the others, he knew why he was doing it. Instead of wasting all his money the minute he docked, he gave most of it to my mum to make sure me and my sister had all that we needed. He appreciated how difficult it was for her, as she would do everything for us. When my father had gone to sea, she had to take his place, as well running the house. It was tough for her. My father injured himself at sea, but there was no sick pay, no pension, nothing. Once he had to stop work, nobody wanted to know us. It was a horrible place to live. The houses were disgusting, and it was so insular. People were happy to inter-marry and live in each other’s pockets. It was a closed shop.’

  Briggs’s experience of Hessle Road was the polar opposite of Derek Jones’s. He looked a broken man.

  ‘My brother died’ he eventually said. He stood up and walked over to the window. ‘He died at sea.’

  I knew that much. I got Sarah to dig into the archives. She’d tied up a crew listing from the photograph we’d borrowed from Maria Platt. Records told us Sid Briggs had died in 1969.

  ‘Jennifer’s father was the captain when he died’ I said.

  He sat back down. ‘Have you heard of the Christmas Crackers?’

  I nodded. Derek had told me about them, but I let him continue.

  ‘Nobody wanted to fish over Christmas. The owners of the boats, though, still wanted them out there fishing, making them money, so they got together the Christmas Cracker crews. Because there weren’t many men to choose from, they’d round up whoever wanted to sail. I did a couple when I first left school to prove I could do it. It was a test, I suppose. I hated it because they’d even take homeless dossers on board, just to make the numbers up.’

  ‘What happened to your brother?’ I asked.

  ‘It was a bad trip. Sid wanted to go because we needed the money. I wanted to go because I was promised a full time job if I could handle it. It was fine at first, but a week in, Sid had an accident on deck. It was a dangerous job with men working long hours. Things would happen and there was little medical treatment available. He got worse and worse over the following days.’ Briggs turned away from me. ‘And then he died.’

  I was puzzled. ‘Why wasn’t he taken to hospital if he needed treatment?’

  ‘The Merchant Shipping Act.’

  ‘What?’

  Briggs laughed. ‘You’re missing the point. Jennifer’s father was the captain and what he said went. The Merchant Shipping Act gave the captain absolute power. He didn’t want Sid to go to the hospital. He thought my brother would just recover, given time.’

  ‘The ship would have to be in radio contact with the office, though? They could have arranged something?’

  Briggs laughed again, making me feel as stupid a
s he obviously thought I was. ‘Murdoch’s father didn’t maintain radio contact.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it wasn’t in anyone’s interest to do so. The ships were out there in competition with each other, trying to find where the fish was. If we made contact with our home base, other ships might pick up the signal. And because we only got paid when we landed the catch, nobody would speak out against the captain. If he wanted to keep our location quiet because we’d found a good one, nobody would argue.’

  ‘So Murdoch’s father made a judgement call?’

  Briggs punched the table. ‘A judgement call?’ He was pointing a finger at me. ‘A fucking judgement call? If it had been, I could have accepted it. No, Murdoch’s father was ambitious. He was young and only in charge of the boat because none of the experienced guys wanted the job. If he messed it up, he wouldn’t get the promotion he wanted. Reputation was everything. Even though I insisted we abort the trip and head to Iceland to get Sid the medical attention he needed, he wouldn’t. He made us carry on fishing whilst Sid got worse and died. He could have saved my brother if he had wanted to, but he put himself and the catch first.’

  I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know whether or not Brigg’s brother would have survived if he had made it to a hospital. He would have had a chance, though, and Jennifer Murdoch’s father had chosen not to give it to him. It had been a cut-throat business, but that was going too far. My uncle had told me that although safety wasn’t of huge importance to some trawler owners, the men looked out for each other. It was better to come back with a reduced catch and all the men than the alternative. I should have put it together sooner. The police had hinted the break-in wasn’t genuine and that she knew her killer. Naturally, suspicion had fallen on her husband, but Briggs would have had all her personal details on file. The rest we had filled him in on. Once we’d given him her background and maiden name, it wouldn’t have been difficult to put together. He’d got more than he expected when he’d engaged us. Briggs had spent decades consumed by bitterness over his brother’s death and we’d given him the opportunity he needed to take his revenge. He sat quietly at the table whilst I called Coleman on his mobile and told him where I was.