‘Come in, come in, Frank!’ he cried, emerging from behind his vast desk to greet me.
I nodded and smiled, and thanked him for agreeing to see me.
‘When a good friend like Jack Gregory asks for a favour, especially at such a sad time as this, I am not the man to turn him away. Of course I’m happy to see you!’
He was secure enough in his party and local standing to have given me the brush-off, of course, but already he was running for a different office. He couldn’t afford to antagonize Jack Gregory and all the other people who had believed in James Campbell. Not yet anyway. That would no doubt happen when he had the votes in the bag. Given his current standing, I didn’t suppose that would take too long.
To get anywhere with my hopes of undermining PortPlus, I knew I had to hit hard and early in the political world. So I told him how I had become involved in the James Campbell tragedy, and then went on to state my case against PortPlus. They were a bunch of charlatans, I concluded, and possibly worse.
Unfortunately, my case was mostly suspicion, innuendo and rumour, backed up by the knowledge that James Campbell himself had been about to campaign against them. I added to that the fact that McCardle’s background was in African mining, and that as far as anyone had been able to discover, PortPlus had no experience of port management.
Donnelly listened intently and without interruption. But the cogs in his head were whirring. I could hear them, and I could sense the judgements he was shaping and the decisions he was coming to long before I finished. I was reluctantly impressed. The man was no pushover.
When I was done, he poured two cups of coffee from a waiting flask and set them on the little table between us, along with bowls of sugar and milk.
‘I understand how you got sucked into all this, Frank,’ he said. ‘You were enjoying a pleasant afternoon by the sea, and became the unfortunate bystander that just happens to get hit by a ricochet. Collateral damage, yes?’
‘Something like that.’
‘And then you were pursued by evil men as a consequence, men who were afraid you would be able to identify them.’ He nodded to himself, as if satisfied that he had summed up the starting situation perfectly, as indeed he had. Then he moved on to what happened next.
‘If there is any way I can help bring pressure on the police service to provide protection, you must let me know. The Chief Constable is a very good friend of mine. Indeed,’ he added with a wry smile, ‘I played some small part in his appointment.’
That was no surprise to me. I was sure it wouldn’t have been news to Bill Peart either. Even though we don’t yet have elections for police chiefs, chief constables have always been political appointments made by people – men mostly – in what used to be smoke-filled rooms. I doubt if the new police commissioners will change that.
‘However,’ he continued, a frown beginning to appear, ‘this business about PortPlus is a different matter. I believe it to be entirely unconnected to James Campbell’s unfortunate demise. There is no evidence that says otherwise. And I must tell you, PortPlus have offered a vision for the future of this area that is unrivalled. Never in our wildest dreams could we have hoped for inward investment and regeneration on the scale they are proposing.’
He shrugged and added, ‘So this council supports them and what they want to do. As do government ministers, I might add, and the vast majority of our citizens. The current port operators do not, of course,’ he added with an understanding smile.
‘Maybe you should listen to the Teesport people,’ I said doggedly. ‘They’re in the business, and have been for a long time. They know what they’re talking about.’
‘As do PortPlus.’
‘Do they, though? Where has their experience come from? I haven’t been able to find any evidence of them running a port anywhere in the world.’
‘They are involved in many, many ports. Maputo, for one, in Mozambique. Ports in the United States for another.’
‘But not as principals. They might have a financial interest, although that doesn’t appear publicly, but they don’t actually run a port.’
‘They will! They will soon.’ He smiled at me infuriatingly. ‘I think you under-estimate PortPlus.’
‘On the contrary, I’ve met McCardle and his sidekick Rogers. I know what they’re like. I also know that James Campbell had decided they were no good for Teesport or this area, and was about to campaign against them. He had good reason.’
Donnelly nodded and paused. ‘Was there anything else?’ he asked a moment or two later.
Clearly, that last card had not played well. I considered for a moment, and then decided I was in it up to my neck anyway. Why not go for broke?
‘Off the record, I want to ask you to consider that PortPlus might be a front operation only. Their so-called HQ turned out to be a vacant office in Middlesbrough they had rented for a week. They told the agency they wanted it for promotional purposes. There’s nothing behind the front. And now they’ve moved to different premises.
‘Somehow,’ I added, ‘McCardle is in this to make quick money to replace what he lost in Zimbabwe when his mining business was expropriated. I’m not yet sure how he intends doing that, but you can bet there’s no way he’s interested in running a port in the long term. PortPlus will probably asset strip, not do the good things they promised, and then move on, having turned a quick buck.’
I could see from Donnelly’s expression that my diatribe had not gone down well.
‘Mr Doy,’ he said in a less friendly tone, ‘I have given you a lot of my time this morning. I have sat here and listened patiently to what you had to say, and I have to tell you it’s a load of horse manure. Now I would be grateful if you would leave me to get on with my job. I have another appointment coming up.’
So that had gone well, I thought, on the way out. I hadn’t laid a glove on him – or on PortPlus.
Chapter Thirty
‘How did you get on?’ Nancy asked when I got back to the car.
‘Don’t ask!’
‘That bad?’
‘Worse. What makes it worse is the man’s pretty astute. He’s nobody’s fool.’
‘Why is that worse?’
‘He knows what he’s doing. He’s no innocent. So maybe we’re wrong, and James Campbell was wrong too.’
‘But you don’t think so?’
I shook my head. I didn’t think we were wrong. My instincts said we were right. PortPlus were a charade, and McCardle and Rogers international con men, if not mobsters. Otherwise, there was too much to explain.
I couldn’t see James Campbell’s murder, just as he was about to launch his anti-PortPlus campaign, as a coincidence. Then there was the job offer to me, and the attacks that had redoubled since I declined it.
What I couldn’t explain was how PortPlus had pulled the wool over Donnelly’s eyes. They didn’t operate a port anywhere! Why couldn’t Donnelly see that?
‘What else did you think of him?’ Nancy pressed.
‘He’s a Middlesbrough man, pretending to be Irish.’
‘So?’
‘I didn’t like him. He’s an insincere, nasty piece of work – but capable and powerful.’
‘Corrupt?’
I just shrugged. I had no idea. It was certainly a possibility, though.
I mulled it over. Corruption could explain why Donnelly was so supportive of PortPlus, although it would be hard to pull off these days, given the structure of local government, and all the checks and balances. One man could still be paid backhanders, I supposed, but even the leader of a council couldn’t take decisions unilaterally. Influence them, certainly, but not take them. There wouldn’t be much money in that.
My feeling was that Donnelly probably wasn’t on the take. He was just one of many who for some reason saw PortPlus as the potential saviour for the area. If he was right, his career would get a big boost. So. . . . Mistaken, perhaps, but not necessarily corrupt.
‘Maybe he’s supportive of PortPlus just becau
se James had turned against them?’ Nancy suggested.
‘I would buy that if James had been campaigning for some time, but he hadn’t, had he?’
Nancy shook her head and sighed. ‘What now?’ she asked.
‘I’m going to talk to someone else.’
‘Can you run me home first? I’ve got things to do.’
‘Do you want to come back with me afterwards?’
‘Tomorrow, Frank. Pick me up tomorrow.’
I didn’t like that idea. The Geordies were still around, and she was still vulnerable.
‘Sure?’
She nodded firmly. ‘I’m not going to shelter under your wing, Frank. I need to stand up for myself. No-one is going to frighten me out of my own home.’
‘OK,’ I said reluctantly, giving her a hug. ‘But take care.’
I phoned the Evening Gazette and asked for Colin Ryder, the reporter who had covered the PortPlus launch, and asked to meet him. He was cautious.
‘What about?’ he wanted to know.
‘PortPlus,’ I said. ‘I don’t believe they’re genuine.’
He chuckled. ‘I’ve heard that before. What makes you think it?’
‘For one thing, I know James Campbell was opposed to their takeover bid, and he was murdered. For another, I can find no evidence that they have ever been involved in operating a port.’
‘So what, if they can do it?’
‘There’s a question of credibility surely? Their background is in African mining – until they got chucked out.’
‘So they’ve changed course. McCardle isn’t stupid, you know. He believes they can make it work.’
‘He’s just hoping to make a pile of money fast!’
‘That’s what makes the world go round. Unless you’ve got anything specific against him, Mr Doy, I don’t think I can spare the time to meet you right now.’
‘When the full story comes out,’ I said bitterly, ‘you’ll be sorry you missed it.’
‘No doubt. By the way, you do know Redcar and Cleveland Council has given its full backing to PortPlus, and Middlesbrough is inclined to do the same?’
‘They’re all desperate.’
‘So are a lot of the people PortPlus are promising to help with jobs and houses. Besides, the politicians have examined the proposals in detail. They think they’re viable.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Get something new, and I’ll talk to you again. Cheers.’
So that had gone as well as the meeting with Donnelly, I thought afterwards, feeling morose. What was wrong with them all? Maybe I was just no good at explaining myself.
Bill Peart was waiting for me when I got back to Risky Point. I wasn’t at all sure he was who I wanted to see right then, but I had to let him inside and go through the motions of being hospitable.
‘I’ve just been talking to Jimmy Mack,’ he volunteered. ‘Interesting man, that.’
‘He’s an old windbag,’ I said sourly.
‘No, no! I wouldn’t say that. It’s surprising what he knows. I often learn a lot from him.’
As I put the kettle on, I wondered where this was going. I was used to Bill’s crafty introductions. Either there was something he wanted from me or he’d caught a whiff of something that he could hold against me. Bloody Jimmy! What had he been saying now?
I made a pot of tea and let it brew, while Bill prattled on about the fish he was hoping to catch when next he found some time to come down here and get me and Jimmy to take him out in the boat.
‘Tea?’ he said, as I poured it out.
‘No coffee left, and I forgot to get some more.’
‘All the women that pass through your door,’ he grumbled, ‘and you can’t get one of them to see to the grocery order?’
‘They’re guests, Bill, not cheap domestics.’
‘If you say so. And this latest one lives in a shed at the South Gare, I hear?’
Bloody Jimmy again!
‘She has a fisherman’s hut there. It was her grand-father’s.’
‘I wasn’t aware that those sheds – huts, sorry – were suitable for permanent accommodation?’
I yawned. ‘What was it you wanted, Bill? I’ve had a rotten day so far.’
‘Too many late nights? Oh, well. You’ll learn. We all have to go through that stage in life, I suppose.’
I shook my head and chuckled without feeling amused. ‘You workaholics! You’re all the same. You think life is about stopping everyone else enjoying themselves.’
‘You’re confusing me with the tax man,’ Bill said equably. ‘I just think you should stay away from the South Gare, and from PortPlus.’
‘You do, eh?’
He nodded.
‘Any reason?’
‘None that I can disclose.’
That meant he had nothing. He just didn’t want me interfering, as he would see it. He just wanted me to be here when he needed to ask me questions.
‘How’s the murder investigation going?’
‘Not well. We haven’t a clue who shot Campbell. But it wasn’t the Geordie lads.’
‘Really? Have you found them, and asked them?’
‘Not yet. But we will.’
‘And the other inquiry? The guy who attacked me, and then fell off the cliff?’
He shook his head. ‘No body found yet.’
He looked at me speculatively.
‘It did happen, Bill, if that’s what you’re wondering!’
He grinned and nodded.
‘This tea,’ he said, swilling it round with a spoon. ‘A bit weak, isn’t it?’
‘It’s an art,’ I admitted, ‘one I haven’t mastered yet.’
I made more. We watched the pot while the tea brewed.
‘Coffee’s a lot easier,’ Bill said. ‘And quicker.’
‘Perhaps you could bring some next time you come?’
He grinned again. Then he said in a conversational tone, ‘I have to be careful, Frank. So do you. The Chief has taken his line from the politicians, and he doesn’t want to hear any whispers about PortPlus. So far as he’s concerned, what PortPlus want to do is a grand thing. He’s all for it – and for them.’
‘Why do I have to be careful?’
‘He’s been receiving complaints about you getting in the way, wasting folks’ time and so on. He wonders if you’re a credible witness for what you say you saw at the Gare that day. He wants me to find out if you might have been involved yourself in Campbell’s murder.’
I stared with disbelief and shook my head. ‘That’s absolutely stupid!’
He nodded. ‘I agree. But it’s the world we live in, unfortunately.’
‘So you’re telling me to back off?’
‘Not exactly. I’m telling you you’re not flavour of the month in certain quarters, and to watch your back.’
‘Thank you!’
‘There’s another thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I’m not sure about this, but whoever shot Campbell might still be around. It wasn’t necessarily the guy who fell off the cliff. Anyway, I wouldn’t want him – or her, or them – to think you might be a danger to them. So watch yourself.’
Chapter Thirty-One
The larder was looking bare. Two people eat more than one, I suppose. So I called into the big supermarket in Redcar and started filling my trolley with a mix of stuff that’s good for you and stuff that I like. I didn’t bother speculating about Nancy’s preferences. She seemed to eat anything that came her way, probably due to advanced poverty.
That thought made me smile. It wasn’t often I came across easy-to-please women where food was concerned.
Then I came face to face with Jac Picknett at the cheese counter.
‘You’re back!’ I said as soon as surprise allowed.
‘Hello, Frank. Yes, I’m back.’
‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine, thanks. You?’
She seemed less surprised than me, perhaps because she had known she was ba
ck, and that I had never gone away.
‘I’m OK, thanks.’
It was a bit awkward, the two of us standing there as if we hardly knew each other, and I suppose it had slipped my mind that our last meeting had ended the way it had.
‘Look, do you fancy a coffee?’
‘I don’t think so, Frank. I’m rather busy.’
I nodded. ‘Me, too. What about getting together for a meal? I need to bring you up to date.’
She gave me a wan smile. ‘Better not. I meant what I said last time we met, Frank.’
I had recalled her words by then, and now I gave her a rueful smile.
‘Besides,’ she added, ‘I’ve met someone. You and I had our time, Frank. Let’s leave it at that.’
I nodded, thinking to myself that at least I didn’t have to make up any explanations about Nancy.
‘You’ve met someone? Good. Anyone I know?’
She shook her head firmly. ‘No chance of that. He’s American, and hasn’t been here long. He just happened to come into the gallery one day, and. . . . Well, there you are!’
There, indeed. Fast work. Well, good luck to her. She was every bit as free as I was myself.
‘Oh, there is one thing!’ I said, a thought coming to mind belatedly. ‘If I email you photos of a couple of paintings, would you mind answering a question or two about them – giving me your expert opinion?’
She smiled.
‘Basically,’ I added, ‘I’d like to know if they’re worth anything.’
‘I can hardly tell from photos, Frank.’
‘If they’re what I think they might be, you can see them for yourself. But I don’t want to waste your time.’
‘All right. Send the photos.’
We nodded politely and parted. People who once had known each other. Like that.
I loaded up the Mondeo estate Eric had loaned me, left the car park and parked in a quiet street. Then I headed for the Lord Zetland, where I was unlikely to see anyone who knew me, to see what their guest ales were that week. I needed to sit quietly and think. Bumping into Jac had been a surprise, a shock really. For a time, I had assumed we were long-term, if not permanent, as a couple. I’d certainly got that wrong.
A Death at South Gare Page 13