by JOHN STANLEY
Radford raised an eyebrow at Gaines.
‘Brian Chambers,’ whispered the sergeant.
‘Perlow was right, he couldn’t keep away,’ said Radford then scowled as a flash indicated that the press photographer had arrived on the scene. ‘Michael, we need to get this wrapped up quickly.’
‘Too right we do, guv.’
‘Mr Chambers,’ began Radford but Marjorie Pretty interrupted him.
‘And what would you do, Brian?’ she asked angrily, jabbing a finger at him. ‘Just tell me what you would do?’
‘Yes, do tell,’ murmured Radford.
‘Direct action,’ said Chambers immediately.
‘Pha!’ snorted Marjorie.
‘Scoff all you like but if you had let me lead your group like I suggested, there would have been none of this standing behind the barriers waving placards and spouting guff about democratic rights. No, you need to blockade the street, occupy the houses and tell the demolition workers they will have to flatten them over your dead bodies.’
‘Or theirs,’ said a voice from the crowd and there were a few uncomfortable laughs.
‘You’re hardly going to be able to occupy many houses on your own, Brian,’ said Marjorie, flapping a dismissive hand at Radford, who was trying to speak.
‘I have other methods at my disposal,’ said Chambers mysteriously. ‘In fact…’
‘Alright, alright,’ said Radford impatiently, ‘I have had enough of this.’
He nodded at Gaines and the sergeant moved towards Chambers, who looked at him in amazement.
‘What you doing?’ he asked.
‘I think you had better accompany us to Read Street for a little chat,’ said Gaines, reaching out a hand.
‘I certainly will not!’ exclaimed Chambers and turned to walk away but bumped into Perlow, who had come up quietly behind him.
‘Ah, Mr Chambers,’ said Perlow with an affable grin. ‘How nice to see you again. Going somewhere? Perhaps we can give you a lift?’
Chambers considered brushing past him for a moment then sighed and let Perlow lead him to the car, the flash of the newspaper photographer’s camera illuminating the night and the jeers of the crowd ringing in his ears. As Perlow bundled him into the back seat, the sergeant turned and nodded up the street.
‘There’s a security guard that would like to talk to you, guv.’
Gratefully leaving Gaines to marshal the excited crowd, the chief inspector strolled to where Ray Gerrard was waiting outside the house where he had found Colin Jeavons. The uniformed constable was still standing guard.
‘He wants to get in, sir,’ said the PC.
‘Now why would you want to do that, Ray?’ Radford asked.
‘I was just going to check if the back door was secure, it’s my job,’ said Gerrard but it did not sound convincing.
‘So tell me,’ said Radford. ‘How come you found the body?’
‘You got to be vigilant,’ said Gerrard. ‘That’s why the security firms use us ex-Army lads because we are skilled in…’
‘Flogging cheap booze and drugs, from what I hear.’
Gerrard gawped. ‘Na,’ he blustered, ‘not me.’
‘Oh, yes, you. I think that is why you wanted to get back in, to check you had not left anything incriminating behind. I noticed several full cider bottles standing in the room where Colin Jeavons died. Was that your stash, Ray? Were they the ones you planned to sell tonight?’
‘How dare you suggest such a thing!’ said Gerrard angrily, taking a step towards the chief inspector but halting when he saw the uniformed officer tense himself ready to protect his superior officer.
‘In fact,’ said Radford, nodding his appreciation to the young constable, ‘we have a witness who claims you were running quite a lucrative little scam here.’
Not that Ronny Gallagher will ever stand up in a court of law.
‘Who said that?’ said Gerrard furiously. ‘Tell me which bastard said that!’
‘Who said it is not relevant,’ said Radford, mindful not to repeat his slip with Ronny. ‘Where you fit into things is. I think you and I need a chat, Mr Gerrard, don’t you?’
‘You’ll have to bleeding well arrest me! I know my rights.’
‘In which case, I will happily arrest you.’
Gerrard eyed the chief inspector’s stern expression for a moment then nodded his defeat.
‘Good choice,’ said Radford and nodded down the street. ‘Shall we?’
And he led the stunned security guard down towards the barriers, watched by the increasingly excited crowd.
Chapter eighteen
‘Guess what links Colin Jeavons, Robert Garnett and Desmond Creeley,’ said Perlow, glancing at the document lying on his desk in the dimly-lit CID squad room later that evening.
‘They were all world champion tiddlywink players?’ replied Gaines through a mouthful of ham sandwich.
‘Close, old son, but not quite right.’
‘Then it must surely be that they have all climbed Mount Fujiyama wearing only flip-flops,’ said the sergeant, still not looking up from the newspaper he was reading.
‘Don’t think so,’ said Perlow, making an elaborate pretence of examining the back of the document, ‘but I’ll do a check just to be on the safe side.’
‘Who knows?’ said Gaines, still not diverting his attention from the football reports. ‘We could be examining the great flip flop scandal of old Leyton Town.’
‘Could be,’ nodded Perlow, reaching for the half-eaten pasty on his desk, ‘but actually, I was thinking more of the fact that all three of them have, at one time or other, been members of The Lake golf club. Indeed, Colin Jeavons was once its president.’
Gaines finally stopped reading his newspaper and looked at the DC with interest. It was shortly after seven-thirty and they were alone in the room. Radford had been briefing Connor in the superintendent’s office for half an hour, other detectives were out on inquiries and the officers had taken the opportunity to grab a belated tea, Gaines having earned himself an ear-bashing from Pam when he rang home only to be told the meal she had prepared had been ruined by his non-arrival.
‘So what is that?’ asked Gaines, motioning to the piece of paper which had engaged his colleague’s interest.
‘The golf club’s membership list for the past five years. I asked for it when I realised that Garnett and Creeley had been members. The president kept stalling on it, said they didn’t have the records, but I finally persuaded him to cough it up.’
‘Is that that Montgomery chap?’
‘Yeah.’
‘He was funny with me as well. Not sure why.’
‘Because he’s terrified of a scandal and he does not do scandal. Bad for business. Anyway, all three of their names are on it.’
‘It’s certainly interesting,’ said Gaines, taking another bite of sandwich as he ambled over to the kettle. ‘Refill?’
‘No thanks.’
‘I’m not sure quite what it means, mind,’ said Gaines.
‘Me neither but it’s a link.’
‘Well, here’s another one,’ said Gaines. ‘Remember what Marjorie said about council backhanders?’
‘And?’
‘I called a friend of Pam’s who used to work for the council. She reckons Garnett was very helpful when Jeavons and his mates starting up in business. Pam’s friend says that had Garnett’s drinking not taken hold of him after he was sacked, Jeavons would have offered him a job as a consultant. Everyone in the planning department reckoned it would have been a thank you - her words.’
‘Thank you for what exactly?’
‘A bit of inside info on tenders, a steer in the right direction?’ shrugged Gaines. ‘Maybe they slipped Garnett a few quid to put a word in here or there. Who knows?’
‘Yeah, maybe.’
There was silence for a moment then Perlow looked at his colleague uncertainly.
‘I think my place is being watched,’ he said.
�
��What!’
‘Yeah. Two or three times in the past few days I could have sworn there has been someone in the street. And one night I could not sleep - and no, it’s not what you’re thinking, I was alone…’
‘So it is what I’m thinking.’
‘And I looked out of the window,’ said Perlow, ignoring the comment, ‘and he was there again, under a street lamp. I went out but he had gone.’
‘Any idea who it is?’
‘Na, I didn’t get a good look,’ and Perlow looked worried, ‘but it’s spooked me a little bit, I don’t mind telling you.’
‘Probably someone’s jealous husband,’ said Gaines slyly.
‘Yeah, probably, there’s plenty of them around,’ laughed Perlow but he did not sound convinced.
Before he could speak further, Radford walked into the room and eyed them apologetically.
‘Back on your heads, guys,’ he said. ‘Gerrard’s lawyer is kicking up funny, says we have no right to hold him. I really need something concrete. Sorry.’
With a sigh, Gaines rammed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth and reached for his jacket.
‘No rest for the wicked,’ he said.
Chapter nineteen
‘For God’s sake, Ronny!’ exclaimed Perlow in exasperation.
‘Actually, I ain’t no Christian,’ said Ronny Gallagher with a laugh, glancing round as if waiting applause for his cleverness.
‘Don’t muck us about,’ hissed Gaines: the last thing he wanted was Ronny’s games after a long day. ‘I really need you to give me something.’
‘I’ve already given you something,’ said Ronny, sitting back in the chair and crossing his arms defiantly. ‘And that’s all you’s getting.’
It was shortly after ten-thirty and the detectives were in the office at the homeless hostel. Sitting opposite them were Ronny and Ginch, and behind the desk, sense of fair play outraged as usual by Perlow’s approach, was Ernest Kemley. Perlow and Gaines had already crossed swords with the assistant manager once that night because, when the officers banged loudly on the hostel door, Kemley refused to let them in, saying it was too late and that all the residents were in bed.
Eventually, after a heated argument on the doorstep, he reluctantly led the officers into the lounge where a number of young men were sprawled on chairs, watching television, Ronny and Ginch among them. Even though it was chilly, Ronny had his shirt off, displaying a bony torso and ugly spots on his chest and stomach.
Giving Kemley a long hard look and ignoring the hostile expressions from the residents, Perlow demanded that Ronny join the detectives in the office. At first, the teenager refused, and, noticing his bunched right fist, the officers wondered if his barely restrained aggression was about to explode to the surface. However, he did nothing except stand there and eyeball them. It was only when Perlow threatened to arrest him that Ronny gave an exaggerated sigh and walked jauntily out of the lounge, responding to the calls of support from the others with a wisecrack flung back over his shoulder. It was greeted with drunken laughter.
Ginch followed him, rather like a loyal dog thought Perlow. The detectives noticed that both teenagers were unsteady on their feet and once they had sat down, a look at Ronny’s darting eyes and Ginch’s profuse sweating was enough to confirm that they were heavily under the influence of something.
Perlow sighed: he held out little hope for the interview they were about to conduct. However, Radford had made clear that the officers needed to produce something to break down the wall of silence that Ray Gerrard had constructed. Cockiness replaced by obstinacy, the security guard had refused to answer any of the chief inspector’s questions. All he had said time and time again was ‘prove it, prove it’ until Radford stalked angrily out of the room.
‘Look, Ronny,’ said Perlow, trying a more conciliatory tone. ‘You were the one told us about Ray Gerrard flogging booze and drugs.’
‘You did what?’ exclaimed Ginch, looking at his friend in amazement. ‘Why did you do that?’
Ronny shrugged. ‘Kept the busies off me back.’
‘Yes, well, we are well and truly on your back now,’ said Gaines. ‘And we need more on your mate Ray Gerrard.’
‘He ain’t no mate of mine,’ leered Ronny. ‘He’s a loser.’
‘He may well be but we need to know more about his little scam.’
‘What more can I tell you?’ shrugged Ronny.
‘Where did he get his heroin for a start?’
‘Don’t answer that,’ said Ginch quickly.
‘And why shouldn’t he?’ asked Perlow. ‘Does he know something he shouldn’t?’
Ginch said nothing and looked at the floor.
‘I don’t know owt anyway,’ said Ronny. ‘Besides, Ray Gerrard may be a tosser but not even he is stupid enough to kill off his best customers. Bad for business, eh?’
And he laughed.
‘Look,’ said the constable, ‘we can continue this down the station if you want. It’s no skin off my nose.’
‘I really do think,’ interrupted Kemley, unable to contain himself any longer, ‘that the tone of your questioning leaves a lot…’
‘Can it!’ snapped Perlow, glaring at him. ‘I have had enough of your obstructive behaviour.’
‘I am merely pointing out that these young men deserve some respect. Something you seem to ignore.’
‘Only because I choose to,’ said Perlow curtly. ‘And I will thank you to keep your trap shut, Mr Kemley.’
‘Yeah,’ said Ronny, giving the hostel worker an unpleasant look. ‘I can do me own speaking.’
‘I just thought…’ said Kemley.
‘Besides,’ said Ronny, a taunting edge to his voice. ‘We’ve had our crappy fish fingers!’
And he and Ginch laughed.
‘They’re both under the influence,’ explained Kemley unhappily. ‘Now when they are sober, it’s a different story.’
‘Cobblers,’ said Perlow. ‘They’re the same low-lives sober and you should stop trying to protect them.’
He stood up and eyed the teenagers with a glint in his eye.
‘Alright, have it your way,’ he said, making as if to leave the room. ‘Just remember, guys, we can make your lives hell.’
‘Are you threatening us?’ taunted Ronny. ‘You ain’t allowed to do that. Kemley told me. I know my rights.’
‘You certainly will by the time I have finished with you, sunshine,’ said Perlow. ‘For a start, I’ll tell your mates you’re a grass.’
‘But I ain’t!’
‘Think they’ll believe that?’
‘I really must protest!’ exclaimed Kemley but a glare from Perlow shut him up.
There was a moment’s silence as the teenagers considered the DC’s comments, Ronny looking concerned for the first time in the interview.
‘Look, Mr Perlow,’ said Ginch, trying to placate him, ‘we don’t know mean to cause no trouble, it’s just we don’t know nowt. Honest to God.’
‘Ronny knew about Ray Gerrard’s little sidelines, though, and I am sure he knows a lot more than he is letting on. Now if he was a responsible citizen…’
Ronny laughed out loud again so Perlow headed for the office door. As he reached for the handle, his pocket radio crackled into life and they heard the disembodied voice of the female control room operator.
‘Message for DC Perlow,’ she said. ‘Contact DCI Radford, we’ve found another drug user.’
Ronny and Ginch exchanged concerned expressions, a gesture not lost on the detectives. Perlow took out his radio and held it so they could hear every word of his conversation.
‘Where?’ he asked.
‘Just down from the shop in Greenbank Road. It’s a derelict house.’
Ronny and Ginch looked at each other again; that was one of their haunts and Perlow knew it.
‘Any ID?’
‘Not yet, but apparently he’s no more than fifteen or sixteen.’
Perlow looked at the teenagers. ‘A friend of you
rs?’ he asked.
Ginch said nothing but the look on his face did the talking for him.
‘I take it he’s dead?’ said the constable into the radio.
‘Affirmative.’
Perlow put the radio back in his pocket.
‘The time for games is over,’ he said grimly. ‘I need information and I need it now.’
‘No way,’ said Ronny with a shake of the head. ‘No way.’
‘For God’s sake, how many more do you want to die?’ Or perhaps next time it might be one of you two.’
‘I’ll take my chances,’ said Ronny.
‘Ginch,’ said Perlow, switching his attention it to the increasingly uneasy young man. ‘Do you know who it is?’
‘Sounds like Danny Boy,’ nodded Ginch, glancing at his friend.
‘So what if it is?’ shrugged Ronny. ‘He’s a little twat, anyway.’
‘But he’s only fifteen,’ said Ginch, his face pale. ‘They’re right, Ronny. This has got to stop. Do you promise this will go no further, Mr Perlow?’
‘Don’t tell them anything!’ exclaimed Ronny.
‘You told him about Ray Gerrard!’ retorted Ginch.
‘Yeah, but this is different. I just wanted to get the tosser in trouble but I ain’t going to sprag on those lunatics selling the drugs. It’s a death sentence.’
‘JT and Danny Boy already had one,’ said Ginch passionately and looked at the detectives. ‘Shaftesbury Street.’
‘Shut up!’ hissed Ronny but it was too late; Ginch had made his mind up.
‘He’s a big bloke,’ he said, the words coming rapidly now. ‘They call him Manny. Always wears a black leather jacket. Got a scar on his cheek.’
‘And what is the relevance of Shaftesbury Street?’ asked Gaines.
‘They are renting a house there,’ said Ginch. ‘Half way down, red door. Opposite the alleyway.’
‘Thank you,’ said Perlow. ‘Thank you, Ginch.’
‘Just don’t tell them I told you where they was.’
‘I won’t.’
‘And be careful, Mr Perlow,’ said Ginch. ‘They got guns.’
‘So,’ said Perlow with the thinnest of smiles, ‘have we.’