Walk On By: DI Ted Darling Book 7

by L M Krier

  ‘Piss-weasel?’ he asked mildly. ‘Now suppose you tell me what you’re doing here and why you’re following me around?’

  But Green was looking anxiously around him, unusually on edge, as he retrieved the knife from the ground, folding the blade away and putting it in his pocket. Ted had never seen him jumpy like that before. Things must be serious.

  ‘We’ve been in one place for too long. We need to go somewhere to talk, in private.’

  ‘I was on my way back to the nick. There’s a pub just near it.’

  ‘The Grapes. I know. Or The Grapes of Wrath, according to the modification to the sign.’

  Ted’s eyebrows went up.

  ‘How long have you been watching me?’

  ‘Long enough to know if I could risk making contact. It’s not a good idea for us to be seen together anywhere public.’

  ‘There’s a back room at the pub. The landlord lets me use it sometimes. We could go there.’

  ‘You go on your own. I’ll make my own way there. I’ll only come in if the coast is clear. If it’s not, I’ll bell you again.’

  ‘As serious as that?’

  ‘More so,’ Green replied as he disappeared.

  Ted walked briskly back towards the station, calling Jo’s number on his mobile.

  ‘Jo? I need to be somewhere for a while. I’m not sure how long. Call me if you need me, but cover for me if you possibly can. I won’t be far away. There’s just someone I need to see.’

  ‘No worries, boss. We’ve got plenty to be getting on with. I’ll only disturb you if it’s absolutely essential. See you later.’

  Something else Ted was grateful to the Ice Queen for – DI Jo Rodriguez. He was more than worth his weight in gold in freeing Ted up when necessary. He owed it to Green to find out what the problem was. It must be bad if he’d come to Ted for help. He was usually more than capable of taking care of himself.

  Ted got the drinks in at the bar then asked the landlord, Dave, if he could use the back room for a short meeting with someone. Ted and his team were good customers. Dave was happy to help.

  His mobile rang again as he was sitting down with his drink. An unknown number.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘This room you’re in. Is there a back way in?’

  ‘Not officially, but I’ll open it for you. Go round to the back yard.’

  ‘I’m there now.’

  Ted went through to open the back door for him. He knew Dave wouldn’t ask questions. Close to, Green smelt of stale sweat and musty clothes. He clearly hadn’t washed properly in a while and his grey stubble amounted almost to a full-face beard. There was dirt deeply ingrained in the skin of his hands and under his fingernails and Ted could see that he’d lost weight. He’d clearly been living rough for some time.

  ‘I got you a bottle of Becks. Is that all right?’

  Green sat down with his back to the wall, on a stool from which he had clear line of sight to both doors in the room, as well as the frosted glass window. He had a holdall with him which he’d not been carrying before. He carefully put it down on a second stool right next to him. Ted could imagine what it contained.

  Almost half the bottle went down on the first few swallows. Ted knew Green would never drink more than the one bottle before switching to soft drinks. He was someone who could never afford to let his guard down, to be caught the worse for wear. He looked like a man who’d needed a drink, and could do with a good meal even more.

  ‘Do you want to eat?’

  Green shook his head.

  ‘I need to eat, but not here. It’s too public for me to stay long enough. I need your help, Ted, and you know I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t desperate. I need somewhere to lie low, just for a day or three. Somewhere safe and quiet where I can get some rest, eat a bit, get cleaned up. I wondered if you might be able to help.’

  ‘I can’t take you to my place,’ Ted said, instantly wary, his immediate instinct wanting to protect Trev and the sanctuary of his home from whatever danger was clearly badly rattling Green.

  ‘I wouldn’t go there. It’s the first place they’d look, and I know you’ve already had Spooks there in the past.’

  ‘Just who are you on the run from?’ Ted asked him, curious in spite of himself.

  ‘The less you know, the better it is for you,’ was all Green would say.

  ‘As it happens, my mother’s just gone away and I have the keys to her house. You could go there, for a few days. I could take you there now.’

  ‘Far too risky. You mentioned your spotty friend running you off the road, so he knows your car. I don’t want anything or anyone attracting attention to me. Give me the address and I’ll make my own way there.’

  ‘The neighbours might get curious enough to call the police, if they spot you arriving.’

  Green threw him a scornful look.

  ‘Nobody is going to know I’m there because I won’t be walking round with my head up my arse like you were doing earlier. You’ve clearly forgotten every bit of training I kicked into you.’

  ‘Help yourself to anything you can find. I was going up to clear out the fridge later today anyway. My mother’s gone away for a bit. Is there anything you need me to get you?’

  Green reached into his pocket for a crumpled piece of paper.

  ‘I made you a list. Other than that, I’ve got everything I need here.’

  He patted the holdall with a gesture almost of affection. It confirmed Ted’s initial thoughts about its contents.

  ‘And for God’s sake buck up a bit, Gayboy. Make sure you lose any tail before you come anywhere near the place. What about this man in the pub who’s trying to get you scared off something? You’ll need to get that sorted, and soon. And be very careful about how you let yourself into your mother’s place while I’m there. You need your wits about you so you don’t get any nasty surprises.’

  ‘From the description, I’m pretty certain I know who’s behind it. I recently arrested his daughter and had her charged on five counts of murder. She’s currently remanded in secure custody. She’s sixteen.’

  Green got up to leave, completely unmoved by the news. He’d known worse. Far worse. Ted gave him the keys and the address and let him out the back way, promising to get up to the house, with his shopping, as soon as he could. First, he had somewhere to be, now he knew who was behind the recent scare tactics.

  Ted went to find Jo as soon as he got back to the station. Maurice Brown was at his desk as Ted went through the main office so he stopped to have a word with him.

  ‘Maurice, I’m going to need you shortly for something that’s not quite, shall we say, exactly by the book. Someone I can trust to keep quiet about it.’

  ‘Sounds right up my street then, boss. Just say when and where.’

  ‘Jo, I need to disappear again for a bit and take Maurice with me this time,’ Ted told his DI when he went into his office. ‘Is there anything I should know about before I do?’

  Jo looked up at him enquiringly.

  ‘Nothing here, boss. But you’re being very mysterious. Is there anything I should know about?’

  ‘It’s nothing of any significance, really. We won’t be long. It’s just something I need to nip in the bud before it gets completely out of hand. Something I need a witness for, hence Maurice.’

  ‘You’re the boss, boss. If you say so. I presume you know what you’re doing.’

  Ted wasn’t sure he shared his confidence but he had to do something. He filled Maurice in briefly on the details as they walked across the car park together to Ted’s official car. He handed Maurice the keys.

  ‘So Edwards is not likely to be thrilled at getting a visit from you, alive and kicking, boss? I assume he might be tempted to shut the door in our faces, which is where someone of my build comes in handy.’

  Maurice was right. They found Clive Edwards at home, as Ted had hoped they would. He knew he worked from home. He had no idea if he was still able to work since Ted had arrested his youn
g daughter for a series of horrendous crimes. As soon as Edwards saw who was on his doorstep ringing the bell, he tried to shut the door. Maurice took a step forward, making it impossible.

  Ted’s would-be attacker had been spot-on in his description. With his thick neck and broad shoulders, Edwards looked as if he would have made a useful addition to any local club in a rugby scrum and his accent could well appear posh to some.

  ‘Mr Edwards,’ Ted said, pleasantly enough, ‘we just need to come in and have a quick word with you, please.’

  It was a difficult interview. Although it was not particularly cold, Edwards was wearing a shapeless fleece which Ted recognised. He had seen it on the man’s daughter, Morgane, the first time he’d clapped eyes on her. There was something unsettling about seeing her father wearing it now. There was still a lingering trace of her scent on it.

  As they talked to him, the man went from blustering angrily through hurling abuse and threats at Ted, to sobbing uncontrollably. He was still refusing to accept that his daughter could possibly be capable of any of the charges she was facing

  Ted’s voice stayed quiet and calm, but he did need to mark Edwards’ card for him.

  ‘Mr Edwards, it’s important that you understand that even if something were to happen to me, Morgane’s trial would still go ahead. Even if I wanted to halt it, it’s not in my power to do so. Which means that you’re wasting your time with this campaign against me.

  ‘I got a good description of you from the man you paid to try to scare me off. Enough for me to know it was you and to come round here. Enough for me to have you charged with a serious offence. But I don’t want to have to do that. I think you’re probably suffering enough. I also think that what happened with Morgane has caused you to lose your judgement and behave inappropriately.

  ‘But I’m here to tell you, Mr Edwards, that this stops. Now. You’re not helping anyone by your actions. Certainly not Morgane. I can promise you that she will have a fair trial, but that’s all I can promise you. I can’t guarantee the outcome. I can tell you that if you persist in this behaviour, the next time anyone knocks on your door, it will be to arrest you, not just to ask you politely to stop. And you’re going to be of absolutely no use in supporting your daughter if you are yourself locked up. Do you understand what I’m telling you, Mr Edwards?’

  Chapter Twelve

  Ted had kept his phone on silent while he was talking to Edwards. He checked it as they went back to the car and saw there were several missed calls from Marston. He decided he’d wait until he got back to the office in the optimistic hope that Jo would have some news of a breakthrough for him, which he could then pass on.

  Jo was the only one in when they got back. Ted had, that morning, authorised Jezza to go off and start working on her own on the happy slappers. Ted’s was one of the few phone numbers she had saved to the phone she would be using, along with Virgil’s. He was also adept at looking nothing like a copper when the need arose.

  ‘The Big Chief’s been looking for you, boss,’ Jo told him, as soon as Ted went into his office. ‘I explained that you were briefing the team on new developments and you’d call him back as soon as you’d finished.’

  ‘Have I got new developments to brief them on?’ Ted asked hopefully.

  ‘Nothing to get wildly excited about, but there have been some calls about the likeness Magnus’s officers have been putting up around Wilmslow, and even a name or two suggested. I sent Rob and Sal over there to help with checking them out.’

  Marston sounded almost disappointed when Ted phoned to apologise for the delay and to explain that they were chasing up leads on a possible ID of the killer. He was clearly more interested in seeing Ted fail than bringing a criminal to justice.

  ‘Well, keep me up to date at all times. I want a full written report at the end of each day. I expect to see some progress, and soon.’

  He ended the call abruptly. Ted headed for the kettle and the comfort of a mug of green tea. He wanted to get back up to see Green and take him the things he’d asked for, as soon as possible. He also needed to get home to collect the spare keys to his mother’s house before Trev got back from work. He was quite likely to take them to go and clear out whatever his mother had left in the fridge and check that everywhere was secure, thinking he was helping. The last thing Ted wanted to happen was for Trev to come face to face with the new lodger. Green was highly trained, enough to distinguish a real threat from an innocent civilian wandering into his line of fire. But as hyped up and wary as he currently was, anything could happen.

  Ted caught up with all his messages and emails then went back to see Jo.

  ‘Have we cross-checked the names being suggested from the likeness against known associates of Kateb?’

  ‘On it now, boss. Nothing up to now. I don’t want to make assumptions but I’m getting the feeling there’s no substance to our info so far. But I’ve also contacted Fraud for a wider list, associates of associates, if they have such a thing. See if that throws anything up.’

  ‘Excellent, thank you. The Chief Super wants a daily written update from me, and I’ll be back to do that as soon as I can, if you can forward anything you’ve got. But I do need to disappear again for a short while. I’m sorry to keep asking you to cover for me, and I wouldn’t if it wasn’t essential but ...’

  ‘Like I said, you’re the boss, and you’ve never given me any reason not to trust you – yet. I have to warn you, though. I know full well the team would kill me if I didn’t make sure you weren’t putting yourself in any danger. I’ve no idea how, you with your martial arts and me being a lover, not a fighter. But I would try, boss.’

  Ted grinned, in spite of himself.

  ‘Thanks, Jo. I appreciate your loyalty. And loyalty is what this is all about. I’m having to help out a friend in need and it’s … complicated. It always is, where this particular person is concerned.’

  Ted left his car a street away from his mother’s house and made the rest of the journey on foot, carrying Green’s shopping in two carrier bags, held in one hand. Before he went through the garden gate, he put the bags down to make a show of searching his pockets for the keys, taking the opportunity to check all around that there was no sign of anyone watching him. None of the nearby parked cars had any occupants in. If he was being observed, it was from some distance away, through binoculars or the lens of a high-powered camera, but he could see no indication of it.

  He let himself in and shut the door before he spoke. Any of the neighbours who happened to be passing would think it strange, him calling out, knowing that the house should have been empty. He spoke quietly.

  ‘It’s me. I come in peace. Take me to your leader.’

  There was no sign or sound of anyone. From the kitchen came the delicious wafted smells of frying bacon. Still keeping the bags in one hand, so he was free to put up at least some sort of a defence should it be required, Ted headed that way, down the narrow hall.

  The kitchen was empty. The heat had been turned off under the frying pan but the bacon was still crackling and spitting in the hot fat, so it had been recently done. The table was set for one. Everywhere was immaculately tidy. Green, like many soldiers, always kept his personal space perfectly organised so there was nothing to encumber him if he needed to move fast.

  Ted was just about to turn round and start searching the house when once again he felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to stand up. He dropped the bags and pivoted on the balls of his feet in one fluid movement, his right arm instinctively going up to protect himself from any possible knife attack.

  Instead he found himself staring at the unwavering, unblinking eye of a Glock, held in Green’s rock-steady hand.

  Green had a pleasant smile on his face as he said quietly, ‘Boo!’

  ‘Shit!’

  Ted’s hand went automatically to his chest where his heart was suddenly dancing a jig, as adrenalin flooded his body

  ‘You did a bit better this time, Gayboy. At le
ast you weren’t being tailed to the door. I was just making myself some bacon banjoes. Your mother has good taste in bacon.’

  He’d clearly had a long soak and a clean-up. He was wearing track suit bottoms and an ancient, washed-out rugby shirt with the Springboks’ emblem. Ted knew he had connections to Africa, which probably explained the way he massacred some of his vowel sounds. He’d seen from the time he had spent with him in the past that Green had a springbok tattooed on his chest, as well as regimental badges of the Paras and the SAS on his upper arms.

  The washing machine was already turning. Green had shaved off his beard, leaving just a full moustache. It showed hollow cheeks, emphasising how much weight he’d lost since Ted had seen him last, on a punishing training march in the Brecon Beacons.

  Green padded silently across the kitchen in bare feet, heading for his food. Ted noticed a mug with the strings of at least three teabags showing. He couldn’t help wondering if his mother’s china would ever recover from the onslaught.

  ‘I got what you wanted,’ he told him, putting the bags down next to the table.

  ‘I’ll have to owe you, until it’s safe for me to go out to the bank.’

  Ted knew Green was well paid for the work he did. The man had also told him once, in a rare moment of talking about himself, that he had a wife and four grown-up children, to whom he regularly sent money. He hadn’t seen them in years.

  ‘That’s no problem. I trust you. So, are you going to tell me a bit about what’s going on?’

  Ted went to make himself a cup of tea while Green sat down and attacked the first of his sandwiches like a starving man. He spoke between mouthfuls, eating methodically and systematically. Although he’d complimented the bacon, he was as much refuelling his body of necessity as eating for the sheer pleasure of it.

  ‘Like I said, you’re better off not knowing too much. But you’re helping me, and I appreciate it, so I’ll give you the bare bones. I’m sometimes asked to do jobs for various agencies. Special jobs, which could compromise them if they used one of their own operatives and it all went tits up. I’m expendable. If I get caught, the trail back to them would be extremely hard to follow. I’d just be passed off as a psychopathic lone wolf suffering from PTSD.