‘Will do, boss.’
After thirty minutes, Monk emerged from the café. He wiped some dribbled egg yolk from his chin and made his way through the car park.
He got to within five yards of the Capri and took out a set of keys from his coat pocket.
MacLaine said, ‘That’s it. Don’t let him get in the car, Jimmy. Get the bastard!’
Both detectives jumped out of their car and raced across the car park.
Monk saw them coming but had no time to react.
MacLaine reached Monk first and unceremoniously dumped him on the ground. Thinking he was being robbed, Billy Monk began to fight back. Aiming hard, vicious punches at MacLaine.
The tough Scot, with a little assistance from Jimmy Finn, quickly overpowered Monk. MacLaine handcuffed him as he lay struggling on the ground.
Jimmy Finn continued to restrain the struggling Monk, who shouted, ‘Are you fuckers cops?’
MacLaine pulled the drug dealer to his feet and said, ‘Well, we ain’t the fucking taxman!’
He snatched the car keys from Monk and unlocked the Capri. Lifting the boot, he could see a brown holdall inside.
He turned to DC Finn and said, ‘Grab the bag, Jimmy.’
Jimmy Finn unzipped the holdall and examined the contents. Inside the leather bag were five brown-coloured blocks wrapped in clingfilm. The experienced detective knew exactly what he was looking at.
MacLaine’s face broke into a wide grin, and he said, ‘Billy Monk, I’m arresting you on suspicion of possession with intent to supply class A drugs, namely heroin.’
He cautioned Monk, who replied angrily, ‘Who’s the bastard who grassed me up?’
‘It doesn’t really matter, does it, Billy; the bottom line is you’re fucked!’
As he was hauled to his feet, Monk growled, ‘Listen, Jock, why don’t you go fuck yourself!’
MacLaine chuckled and in his strong Glaswegian accent growled, ‘Really, Billy, that’s not very polite, is it? I reckon you need to have a serious think about your situation. This amount of gear has got to be worth about eleven years in the nick. I think a little co-operation might be in order, don’t you? Why don’t you start by telling me the names of the people you got this little lot from?’
‘Not a chance. If I told you that, I’d be a dead man within a month!’
Finally, the drug dealer stopped resisting the handcuffs and began to calm down.
MacLaine said, ‘Get him in the car, Jimmy.’
Jimmy Finn opened the back door of their scruffy car and put the prisoner in the back.
MacLaine put the holdall in the boot and climbed into the back of the car next to Monk.
Monk scowled at the tough Scot and said, ‘Look, I’ve never met you before. I don’t want to be doing eleven years in the nick. Is there anything you can do for me? I can make it worth your while, if you know what I mean?’
‘Really, Billy, I hope you’re not trying to bribe one of the Queen’s men, are you?’
‘Very funny.’
‘Listen to me, you shit; I only deal in information. Tell me where this heroin came from.’
‘I can’t tell you that. I meant what I said; these are very bad people. They would kill me for sure.’
‘Looks like you’re fucked, then.’
The drug dealer remained tight-lipped, then blurted out, ‘There is something I can give you.’
‘Go on.’
‘One of my clients, who buys a lot of gear off me, then sells it on.’
‘You don’t seem to understand how this works. I want the person who supplies you, not the low-level shits you deal to.’
‘No, you don’t understand. I could tell you a lot of stuff about this particular person. This person is into a lot of other bad stuff.’
‘Like what?’
‘Hurting young kids, shit like that.’
‘Okay, Billy. That’s something I would be interested in. What’s your punter’s name?’
‘Not so fast, Jock. What’s in it for me? I’ll talk, alright – providing you can make some of this shit go away.’
‘Listen, Monk, if you don’t tell me the name of your punter in five seconds flat, it won’t be going anywhere, and I won’t be able to help you. Do you understand that?’
‘You can stop the big-man act, Jock. Get me in front of someone who can make the deal, and I’ll talk. If you can’t do that, go fuck yourself!’
‘Big-man act, is it? You cheeky shit!’
‘I won’t talk to anyone until I’m guaranteed some help with this lot. I mean it: I want a deal before I say a fucking dicky bird. That’s fair, Detective.’
‘Sit tight, Monk.’
MacLaine got out of the car and walked across the car park to where Danny and Rob had parked their car.
Danny wound the window down and said, ‘Did you get the gear?’
‘Oh yeah! There’s five blocks of heroin in a bag in the boot. He’s well and truly fucked, and he knows it. He’s got something about a punter of his that he’s holding back. Could be the one you’re interested in. He won’t talk to me. He wants a deal before he says another word.’
‘Get him over to Mansfield. Book him in, and I’ll see you in the cell block. Great work, Malky.’
38
25 June 1986
South Lodge, Retford
Jimmy Wade placed the jogging bottoms, boxer shorts and training shoes into the small brazier that was already blazing fiercely. He had boosted the fire with a squirt of petrol.
He grinned as he watched the flames devour the clothing he’d removed from Jack Williams the night before. The clothes taken from Fred Barnes had previously been destroyed in the same brazier.
He watched the fire, fascinated by the flames as they licked around the clothes. He stayed there for ten minutes, until he was satisfied that all traces of the garments had been destroyed. He then made his way back to the house, to get a container of water.
His captives needed a drink.
There was no way he was going to waste his time feeding them. They would need water if they were to survive long enough for him to extract the maximum pleasure out of them before they were killed.
He walked into the kitchen and stared out of the window, back at the stone outbuilding.
Two down, one to go.
There was one other person who needed to pay before he could execute his plan and escape across the water to southern Ireland.
He had decided some time ago to empty the bank account of Melissa Braithwaite and then drive north to Scotland. Once in Scotland, he would drive to the west coast and pay one of the hundreds of small fishing boats, which operated between the west coast of Scotland and the Republic of Ireland, to ferry him across. For the right amount of cash, there would be no questions asked. He then planned to lie low in Ireland for a month or two before establishing a new identity. He’d done it before; he could do it again.
As he stared out of the kitchen window, he pondered over the problem of Melissa Braithwaite. The easy option would be to kill her and leave her buried in the nearby woods.
It made the most sense and was the solution he kept coming back to.
He was pulled back from his macabre musings by the voice of Braithwaite: ‘Jimmy, I’ve made you a cup of tea; it’s on the kitchen table. Do you want anything to eat?’
‘A couple of fried eggs on toast would go down well.’
She came into the kitchen. He watched her as she got the eggs out of the fridge and walked towards the cooker. She was like a ghost, a shadow of the woman she was when they’d first met.
She had lost weight. Her once-voluptuous, full figure had all but disappeared. Her skin was sallow, and her eyes were sunken with deep black rings below them. He couldn’t find one thing he found attractive about her anymore.
In that instant, he made his mind up.
When the time was right, she would be left with the others. Dead and buried in the forest.
‘I’m just going to give the bastard
s a drink of water. That tea will be cold by the time I get back. Make me a fresh one with my fried eggs.’
‘Okay.’
Wade grabbed the water-filled container and walked to the outbuilding.
Placing the container on the floor, he unlocked the padlock, opened the door and stepped inside.
‘Good morning, gentlemen.’
Both men recoiled as he stepped inside.
Wade looked at the puffy, bruised face of Williams, who stared back at him through the one eye that wasn’t totally swollen shut.
He grinned and said, ‘And how are you, Nurse Williams?’
Williams said nothing.
The grin instantly left Wade’s face, and he growled menacingly, ‘I asked you a fucking question! How are you?’
With an air of defiance, Williams said, ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘Because I can. Do I need another reason? When you two wankers thought it was brilliant fun beating on that helpless nutter Jimmy Wade, you never dreamed you’d end up here like this, did you?’
Williams shook his head and said nothing.
‘I think an apology is in order, don’t you?’
Through gritted teeth, Williams replied, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What? I didn’t quite catch that.’
‘I said I’m sorry.’
‘Too late, Jack, way too late. I’ve got special plans for you and fat Fred over there. Now who would like a drink?’
Barnes, who had remained silent until now, shouted, ‘Me! I need water, Jimmy! I’m dying of thirst here!’
In a sarcastic, mocking tone, Wade said, ‘Oh dear, Mr Barnes. We don’t want you dying of thirst. That would be far too easy, wouldn’t it?’
Wade stepped out of the outbuilding, returning seconds later with the container full of cold water.
He held it to the mouth of Barnes, began to pour the water, and said, ‘Here you are, fatso, drink!’
Barnes gulped the water as it was poured into his mouth. He managed to swallow five mouthfuls before he began to cough and splutter, choking on the cold liquid.
‘I always knew you were a greedy bastard by how fat you are. You should have taken your time and sipped it.’
Wade laughed, then stepped over to Williams and repeated the process, allowing the other man to drink some water.
He looked at the two men, who were now both soaking wet, and said, ‘That’s all for today. Make yourselves comfortable, and I’ll see you tomorrow. That’s when the fun will really start. Don’t go away now.’
Laughing at his own joke, Wade stepped outside. He replaced the padlock on the door and made his way back to the house. He was ready for his eggs on toast and a cup of tea now.
Back in the outbuilding, Barnes whispered, ‘Do you see what I mean now, Jack? I’m telling you, we’re in deep shit.’
‘He’s going to have to unlock us at some stage. When he does, we’ve got to be ready to take him down. We might only get one chance.’
‘Do you think we’ll be able to take him?’
‘Both of us, yeah. If we work together, we can do him. We’ve just got to be ready.’
‘Okay.’
Barnes shook his head in the gloom.
He knew his captor wasn’t stupid. He seriously doubted that Wade would make a mistake. Barnes thought their only chance of survival was for somebody to miss them and start looking for them.
He said to Williams, ‘Should you have been at work today, Jack?’
‘Yeah, I was on a day shift. Why?’
‘Well, I haven’t turned up for work for two days, and now you’re missing as well. Do you think anyone will start wondering why we’re not at work?’
‘I did mention it to Staff Nurse Atkins yesterday that you hadn’t turned up.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He said to wait until tomorrow and see if you came to work then. I told him I was going to nip round to yours yesterday after work. I went, but your house was all locked up, and your car was outside.’
‘Yeah, because Wade got me outside the pub.’
‘Do you think Atkins will start asking questions when I don’t turn in for work today?’
‘I fucking hope so. If nobody finds us here, I think we’re done for. This nutter isn’t going to let us go. We’re as good as dead already.’
Williams let out an audible groan.
39
25 June 1986
Marsh Lane, Dunham, Nottinghamshire
Tina Prowse and Rachel Moore got out of the car and looked at the secluded cottage.
The policewoman sitting in the patrol car parked in front of them got out and walked towards the two detectives.
‘Are you from the MCIU?’
Rachel said, ‘Yes. Thanks for waiting for us. I’m DC Rachel Moore, and this is Sergeant Tina Prowse. Are you PC Jennings?’
‘Yes, Sarah Jennings.’
‘Okay, Sarah, what have we got?’
‘I was called here this morning by the local postman. While he was delivering the post, he’d found the cottage with the front door wide open. The television and the lights were all on. He thought it was strange, so he called the police.’
Tina said, ‘What’s the postie’s name?’
The young policewoman looked at her notebook. ‘His name’s Wally Hastings. He works out of the Retford depot. I took his initial account, but I haven’t taken a statement from him because he had to finish his round. I’ve got all his contact details, though.’
‘That’s fine. We’ll go and see him later for a statement. What did he say to you when you first arrived here this morning?’
‘He said that he’d noticed the door was wide open and the hall light was on. He called out, but there was no reply. He left the post on the floor of the hallway and then walked down the lane to deliver the mail to the last house. When he came back, the letters hadn’t been touched and were still on the floor.’
‘Why did he come back up to the cottage?’
‘Marsh Lane’s a dead end. He would have had to walk back this way.’
Rachel said, ‘I bet he’d left his mailbag in the garden and walked down the lane without it. That’s why he came back to the door.’
Sarah smiled. ‘That’s probably it. Wally’s getting on a bit, and his post bag did look bloody heavy. He’d never admit that, though. I think he’d be in real bother with his bosses if they found out he’d done that.’
Tina said, ‘Have you been inside the cottage yet?’
‘Yes. I thought I’d better check that the owner wasn’t inside somewhere lying injured, and Wally had missed him.’
‘And there’s no sign of anyone?’
‘No. The property’s owned by the people who live at Redgates Farm, but the tenant of the cottage is Mr Williams. I’ve done some checking with the owners, and apparently Mr Williams is a nurse at Rampton Hospital. He’s lived here for just over two years now. According to the Police National Computer, that’s his Ford Fiesta parked on the lane. I checked it when I first arrived here. The bonnet was stone cold, so he hasn’t been anywhere in that. I asked our control room to make some telephone enquiries with Rampton Hospital. Mr Williams was expected to start work at nine o’clock today. He never turned up for work.’
Rachel said, ‘That’s good work. Do you know who your control room spoke to at Rampton?’
Sarah again looked at her notebook. ‘Just a second; I made a note of it. Here it is: They spoke to Staff Nurse Brian Atkins. He’s Mr Williams’s immediate supervisor. Apparently, Mr Atkins did say something a little bit strange when the control room spoke to him.’
‘What was that?’
‘He said that was the second nurse on his shift who hadn’t shown up for work in the last two days.’
‘Who was the other one?’
‘Sorry, the control room didn’t ask.’
‘Not to worry. We’ll go and see Atkins after we leave here. Shall we go and have a look inside?’
The three officers walked up the
path to the open door.
Rachel asked, ‘Are signs of a struggle anywhere, Sarah?’
‘Not that I could see; everything looks fine. It’s as if he walked out of that door and never came back.’
‘Have you found any house keys?’
‘Yes. There’s a set of keys still in the front door, on the inside. His keys for the Ford Fiesta are on the same fob.’
Leaving the policewoman standing in the hallway, the two detectives then made a cursory inspection of the cottage. Finding nothing obvious, they returned to the hallway.
Tina said, ‘Okay, Sarah. As you say, there’s nothing obvious. Can you ensure everything is switched off? Lock the front door, take the keys and enter them into the Other Than Found Property register at your station. I’m going to request a visit by Scenes of Crime to the cottage. I want them to do an inspection of the hallway to see if we’ve missed anything. If we can’t get back later, would you be available to meet them here with the keys and let them in?’
‘No problem, Sarge. I’m on duty until six o’clock. If they contact me through our control room, I can meet them here with the keys.’
‘That’s great, thanks. One last thing, have you ever met the tenant, Mr Williams?’
‘I can’t say I have; this is such a quiet lane. Nothing ever happens here.’
40
25 June 1986
Bleasby, Nottinghamshire
The isolated grey stone cottage stood in its own grounds at the end of a long and winding tree-lined lane. The windows of the cottage were all shuttered, and there was a brand-new, heavy-duty padlock securing the wooden front door.
The front and back gardens were untended and overgrown.
A rusting front gate was hanging on by a single hinge, and several of the dark grey slates were missing from the steeply sloping roof of the abandoned farmhouse.
The decaying building was in an advanced state of disrepair.
The only thing new about the building was the shiny padlock on the front door. The padlock had been unlocked and was now dangling from the hasp.
A Cold Grave: A DCI Danny Flint Book Page 14