She was of slender build with auburn hair. She carried herself like someone who had perhaps modelled in the past. There seem to be an aura about her despite her years. She was definitely someone you’d never forget meeting. But Jack had never met this woman before… although he’d spent a long time looking for her!
HARRY
June 1982
Harry stood at the arrivals entrance of Manchester Airport awaiting the arrival of DCI Jack Wilde. He’d been badgered by the gathered press for the first half an hour but had just remained tight-lipped. He wasn’t there to speak to anyone. He was there purely to check it was Elsie, as the woman DCI Jack Wilde had had extradited had been furiously claiming it was a case of mistaken identity.
Flashbulbs and calls of, “over here, Jack” alerted Harry that finally the waiting was over. The noise from the waiting reporters was overwhelming but the second that Harry caught his first glimpse of Jack and his ward the noise ebbed away. There, in all her splendour, was Elsie. She didn’t look like a murderess or a captured fugitive. Instead she looked like she’d just walked out of some high-class beauty salon. Her suit bore no creases. Not a hair was out of place and, as always, her make-up was immaculate. Elsie Arnold looked every inch like a movie star. As Elsie passed by Harry she just stared straight ahead as if he didn’t exist. DCI Wilde, however, made eye contact with him and Harry gave him a slight nod to say it was her. Then both Jack and Elsie were gone from his sight and once again the noise of the reporters roared around him. Once again, they were aiming both questions and cameras at him, but Harry just silently turned away and headed for the exit. Sitting outside waiting for Harry was an unmarked police car ready to take him to Blackpool Police Station. Harry climbed into the front passenger seat and the car pulled away.
Detective Sergeant Alan Beddows was behind the wheel. He’d been one of the officers sent to inform Harry of Freddy’s murder. He waited until they were out of the airport perimeter and on the motorway to Blackpool before he spoke.
“Is it her?” he asked. Harry just nodded yes.
“Want to stop for a cuppa on the way?”
“No, thanks. Let’s just get this over with, then you can buy me a stiff drink at the pub after.”
“Deal,” replied DC Beddows and he pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator.
Harry had had to wait for just over two hours before he was allowed into the identifying room. Nine other women, similar in stature, age and looks to Elsie stood in the line-up. Elsie stood third from the right. From behind the one-way mirror, Harry never took his eyes off her. She didn’t seem bothered by it all. You’d never know by just looking at her that she’d cold-bloodedly stuck a knife into her eldest child and left him alone in an alleyway to bleed to death. There was no emotion on her face. Harry could feel the warm, salty tears beginning to slide down his face, but he did nothing to hide them. He welcomed the tears. They’d been a long time coming, waiting for this moment when Elsie would be made to pay for what she’d done to Freddy, to his family. DCI Jack Wilde placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Do you see Mrs Elsie Arnold in the line-up?” he formally asked.
“YES,” replied Harry as loud and as clear as he could. “She’s third from the right.”
“Are you certain it’s suspect number THREE.”
“Positive. Elsie Arnold is suspect number THREE.” Harry spoke clearly as he’d been instructed. His response was being taped and so he wanted to make sure there was no doubt in anybody’s mind that he’d picked Elsie out of the line-up.
“Thank you, Harry, that’ll be all,” concluded Jack and Harry was led from the room. Thirty minutes later Jack joined him in a small room just off from the viewing room. He took a seat opposite Harry.
“Stubborn old cow she is, Harry. Even after you’d formally identified her, she still insisted she was Ruby Walters not Elsie Arnold. Soon changed her mind though when I told her we’d be only too happy to drag Morris Connolly aka Douglas Moore and Tommy Jones up here. Now she’s screaming the place down demanding protection from them.” He laughed. Harry smiled too. It was just like Elsie to put herself first.
“Has she admitted to killing Freddy?”
“Not yet! Now she’s finally admitted to being Elsie she wants a lawyer and apart from the screaming for protection she’s remaining tight-lipped.
“Is there one on their way?” enquired Harry. Jack just beamed.
“Duty lawyer is with her now, but we’ve already arrested her for falsifying documents and perverting the cause of justice. So, I’m afraid it’s going to be a night in here for her. And seeing as how she’s refusing to talk, we might as well get us a drink and a bite to eat. Mrs Davidson has cooked us both a roast dinner and has a room for you to stay in at her B&B for as long as you want. Oh! And no payment required. She insisted.” Harry got to his feet.
“Let’s go find DC Beddows and get that drink first.” Jack stood and headed towards the door then turned to face Harry.
“The calm-before-the-storm-drink, I like to call it. You do know it’s going to get rough from here on in for both you and your family, don’t you?”
“It involves Elsie, so of course it’ll be rough. But we’ll survive just as long as Freddy gets justice. Now let’s go have that drink as we don’t want Mrs Davidson’s dinner to go to ruin.”
TOMMY
The television was full of images and videos of Elsie Arnold being led through Manchester Airport by DCI Jack Wilde. Of course, it was headline news. After the acquittal and release of Derek Collins the manhunt had hit global scales for the woman who had murdered her son in cold blood. But Tommy Jones couldn’t care less about that! His main concern was what Elsie Arnold, or Joyce Adams, as he’d known her, was blabbing about him! Barney had warned him time and time again about letting Joyce know too much about his criminal activities, but he’d not listened. But that wasn’t the worst of it! Joyce knew, had even helped cover up and embraced, his homosexuality. He still missed Carl, but Joyce had left him no choice but to end his life. Tommy loved that boy, though he’d never told Carl or anyone else for that matter. It had taken his demise to realise it but by then it was too late. Tommy banged his fist down on his desk. Christ! He hated Joyce with every ounce of his beginning. He should have killed her that night, not Carl. Carl would have still been here by his side, loyal and dependable.
“FUCKING WHORE,” he screamed at the telly, as another shot of her passing through the airport graced his television screen.
“YOU’LL PAY FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME WITH YOUR LIFE, ELSIE ARNOLD,” he yelled at the television. “Once you hit prison you’re toast!”
DOUGLAS
In the common room of Wandsworth Prison, Douglas Moore sat at a table staring at the same news report as Tommy Jones was watching. May, aka Elsie, still was a good-looking woman, he thought. He remembered how other men used to stare at her with longing in their eyes. How he’d felt privileged to be the one she’d chosen. She had been a vision to behold and yet acted like a common whore in the bedroom. Not that he’d minded. He did after all have a penchant for the sadistic in that area. Even now, the memories of her lying naked and inviting on top of the bed were beginning to send his pulse racing. Douglas shook his head, as if to shake the lurid memories from his mind. This woman had stolen from him, he reminded himself. She’d made him look a fool in front of his associates and men. NO ONE made a fool out of him and got away with it. But, somehow, she had. His men had manged to track her down but somehow she’d always managed to stay one step ahead. But not any longer. Now she was just like him. Cornered like a rat in some godforsaken stinking prison. And NO ONE, NO ONE was safe in prison. Why! Even he’d been got at and bore the scar right down his left cheek to prove it. It had only been a warning from the IRA to keep his mouth closed but he’d bled like a pig. There had been no need for them to worry. Douglas Moore was no grass. His silence had paid off. He might end his days in
side, but he’d have as many home comforts as the place could afford, along with protection and the status of top dog. Elsie FUCKING Arnold would have no such luxuries. Elsie Arnold was on borrowed time and he knew exactly who was going to do the dirty work for him. Tommy Jones was and then he’d wipe out him too!
DEREK
Derek Collins had been sat across from Blackpool Police Station since he’d learnt that Elsie was on a plane bound for Manchester Airport. He was quite comfortable in his window seat at the Pump & Truncheon on Bonny Street opposite the station. The landlord knew him from old and when Derek had asked him if he could keep an eye out for Elsie from his establishment he’d been only too happy to help. As a retired copper, he’d understood the need for Derek to see Elsie with his own two eyes, the need to check it was actually her they’d nabbed, but that hadn’t stopped him from frisking him first for any concealed weapons.
Derek hadn’t minded. He’d no desire to kill Elsie. He’d been to prison. He’d served time and it had been no picnic. Prison would bring a slow, suffering death to Elsie without his help. He just wanted to see her. There were rumours flying around that it wasn’t her that was being flown in but some innocent woman. Derek doubted that very much. DCI Jack Wilde was too shrewd a man to get it wrong a second time. Wilde had never really believed that Derek had murdered Freddy in the first place. If it hadn’t been for him, Derek would probably still be rotting away in some prison cell while Elsie was living the life of Riley out in the free world. No, DCI Jack Wilde was bringing Elsie home, he was sure of it.
Derek took a sip of his now-cold tea and was just about to head off to the loo when cars started to pull up outside the station. DCI Jack Wilde exited the car first and then in full view of the waiting press he hauled Elsie out of the back of the car, showing her off as his prize. Derek stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze held by the beauty before him. Derek broke down and cried.
ELSIE
“Shall we begin?” said DCI Jack Wilde as he sat himself down opposite Elsie and her appointed lawyer Glenn McCartney, his finger poised to hit the record button on the interview tape machine.
“Can we speak off the record first?” enquired Glenn. Jack leaned back in his chair, placing his hands in his lap, indicating he was listening. Glenn nodded Elsie to begin. Elsie hadn’t taken her eyes off the DCI since he had entered the room. He was a good-looking chap, she’d give him that, but there was coldness to his eyes. He wasn’t a man to make promises that he couldn’t keep or someone she could play for a fool, that was for certain. All her pleas, of being an innocent mistaken identity, had held no sway with him. It was as if he could look deep into her soul and see her for exactly what she was and that terrified her more than anything. Here was a man that she couldn’t cajole into seeing or doing things her way. She was going to have to play it straight with him, if she wanted to stay alive, even if that life was spent behind bars.
“Say I was to just up and plead guilty. Save my family from going through a trial and let slip a few names, dates, etcetera about a couple of people your lot are interested in. Could you guarantee me protection in prison?” Elsie asked.
“Nope! I can make sure you’re given a cell of your own at a maximum-security prison, that you have as little interaction with other prisoners as possible, but I can’t guarantee your safety. No one can.” Elsie pondered over his reply for a few minutes, still keeping her gaze firmly on him. Glenn went to speak but she held up her hand to silence him.
“Could I be placed in solitary long term?”
DCI Wilde leant forwards and placed his hands on the table. “I thought you hated confined spaces, Elsie. What’s brought around this need to be locked up all alone suddenly?” Elsie could see the small beginnings of a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. She too leant forward and placed her hands on the table.
“Shall we say the desire to remain in one piece and breathing. After all, even murderers get parole.” Elsie let a smile caress her lips for a fleeting moment. The DCI made no movement.
“Have to be pretty big information to wangle that, Elsie.”
“Morris, or, should I say, Douglas, talked in his sleep and had me wait on him and his IRA cronies at least once a week. Now, Tommy Jones didn’t share his bed with me, Detective Chief Inspector, but he did share his dirty dealings with me. I know more than enough for you to bust half of the IRA and put Tommy away for a very long time. So, solitary confinement to me sounds a blast compared to what they’ve all got planned for me. So, do we have a deal or not?” Jack Wilde rose from his seat and headed towards the door. As he knocked for it to be opened he turned back to face Elsie.
“I need to make a few phone calls before I promise anything. I’ll have one of my officers bring in some refreshments while you wait.” And with that he exited out the now-open door.
Elsie sat back in her chair. She hadn’t expected an immediate response from the DCI. In fact, if he’d have agreed straight away, she’d have had to rethink her whole analysis of him. This dimwit of a lawyer they’d assigned her had advised her to just cough up to the murder and hope they’d go easy on her. Once they’d agreed to her terms then she’d get a better lawyer to represent her, but he’d have to do for now. As if on cue, he spoke.
“They won’t agree to your demands, Mrs Arnold; I can assure you of that. He’s just left you here to sweat it out, that’s all.” Elsie turned on the lawyer with a vengeance.
“Are you stupid or something? Don’t you know who the fuck I’m offering information on?” she spat out. “I’ve fucked two of the nastiest, evil bastards this country has ever had the pleasure of knowing and you think they’re going to let me live?”
“I-I-I don’t know who you’re on about,” stammered Glenn.
“Call yourself a defence lawyer and you’ve no fucking idea who Tommy Jones and Douglas Moore are? You must be fucking kidding me, right?” Elsie watched the lawyer squirm in his seat.
“I’ve not come across them,” he replied. His answer made Elsie laugh out loud.
“You’ve never come across either of them. Christ, do you walk around in a fucking dream or something? I mean, I know Blackpool is no hotspot for terrorism or gang lords but Jesus H. Christ that pair of bastards has been plastered across the front pages of newspapers for years and they are seen on the telly more times than the fucking Queen. Where the fuck have you been?” Elsie could see the sweat beads forming on Glenn McCartney’s brow. She watched in amazement as he straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest.
“I’m not a fan of television, if you must know, and I only read the Times. I don’t pay any mind to those gutter press tabloids you are obviously referring to. As I practise in family law, the firm thought as this was primarily a family matter I’d be best suited to your needs.” With that he stood, brushed imaginary crumbs from his suit and made for the door.
“I shall assume you no longer require my services so I shall ask to be excused and see that you get someone more suited to your needs.” Glenn made to knock on the door, but it flung open and caught him square on in the face. He broke into childish crying immediately, making Elsie almost wet her pants in laughter. The police officer who had flung open the door to make way for the tea tray nearly crapped himself when he realised what he’d done to the lawyer.
Elsie called out before returning to fits of laughter,
“I need the fucking loo before I piss myself.” The other officer plonked the tea tray down on the table, then grabbing Elsie roughly by the arm escorted her to the loo. By the time she returned to the room, DCI Wilde was pouring himself a cup of tea and Glenn McCartney was nowhere to be seen.
“He’s being treated by the duty doctor and another lawyer is being sent to represent you as we speak,” he informed Elsie.
“And our deal?” she asked as she sat back down at the table. Jack placed a cup of tea in front of her.
“Solitary it’ll be if the informati
on you give us is worth our trouble.” Elsie smiled and sipped the weak tea.
“Oh, it’s good, very good. So, let’s make sure the next sap of a lawyer you palm me off with is up to the job.”
“We’re not palming you off with anyone, Elsie. Mr Ivan Harris has volunteered his services. He’s a royal pain in the ass. Likes to litter our streets with criminals, he does. Coppers have a nickname for him, it’s Ivan the Terrible. It seems, Mrs Arnold, that he’s taken an interest in you. Perhaps he thinks he can get you off on a lighter sentence. Mr Harris likes the fame, the notoriety defending the bad guys gets him. You’re worth a lot of media attention to him. So, think carefully before you let him in on what you know. It’s a friendly warning, Elsie. Harris isn’t here for your good just purely his own.” Elsie listened carefully to what the DCI was telling her. Glenn McCartney might be a wet blanket but what she really didn’t need was someone out to feather their nest at her expense, especially not with Douglas and Tommy waiting to top her at the drop of a hat. Elsie nodded to let the DCI know she’d taken on board what he’d said. She’d learnt from some of the best how to suss out a grass and who to trust. DCI Jack Wilde might well be trying to put her behind bars but at least he was upfront and honest about it.
Cutting the Cord Page 13