by Gary Tulley
Mrs Conway, I strongly advise you to treat this letter seriously. Should you not choose to do so, the implications you will lay on yourself including your family will come into play. And, at worst, life threatening. I stress, this affair is not about money Mrs Conway. For my part, I am terminally ill, and therefore have no regrets in not seeking financial gain fro you. More importantly than that, I am seeking a form of retribution on behalf of my late father, who through circumstances instigated by your despicable husband (and others) induced him into taking his own life. Believe me, when I say this, but I intend taking extreme measures to ensure the guilt my father carried having been ‘fitted up’ for a crime he didn’t commit, to be over turned. Then, his innocence made public, by every possible means open to me. Including an ‘eye for an eye’ scenario. The only remaining option available to you, in bringing about a satisfactory conclusion to this matter, would entail a written and witnessed confession by your husband, in clearing my father’s name. I sincerely hope that common sense will prevail. As I stated previously, I have nothing to lose or indeed need to justify any action I see fit to take. The decision is yours alone. The instructions that you need, when replying to this letter as to your actions are enclosed. Any outside interest, namely the police or others will only bring my stated intentions forward, when seeking justice….Yours, WINNER.
Eastern’s face remained grim looking for a short while, allowing him to screen his thoughts. It was blatantly clear by his body language that the document had left its mark. The disclosure attributed to the police, and even more so Mrs Conway’s estranged husband, had now dented his own beliefs in their past relationship. The claim, he considered, had now become a personal issue. Mrs Conway meanwhile was showing a degree of impatience, and eagerness for Eastern to reveal his thoughts.
“So, tell me, what is your immediate reaction?”
He pondered briefly for a few seconds before stating his case. “I’d be a liar if I’d said that I hadn’t read better. On a more serious note, it’s certainly unique that money isn’t a prime factor, although his dedication for retribution bothers me considerably. I think we are looking at a highly volatile individual. It is evident to me that he is somebody not to be messed with.”
Sighing deeply, she nodded in accordance. “I suppose…” stopping short, she offered up her ‘get out of jail card’. “Is there any way his demands could be a hoax?” Her plea became a card too far, as Eastern explained in no uncertain terms.
“Nice to think so, but no. Whoever wrote this, to my mind, is well educated, and obviously has done their homework. Which puts you in a messy position regarding your husband. Incidentally, why didn’t you hand the letter over to him in the first place?”
She stalled for time, it was almost as if Eastern had hit a raw nerve. Her answer, when it came, duly manifested more untold grief. “I couldn’t, for selfish reasons alone, my position became untenable in knowing that Mr X’s claim ties in with certain knowledge I’m aware of, regarding my husband allegedly ‘fitting up’ his father.
“Evidence you say! In what way?” Eastern remonstrated. “If you know something that I should know about, you’d better tell me.”
“Would you mind if I have another drink first? I’m finding this aspect rather stressful,” she pleaded. Having regained her composure, she carried on where she had left off. “You have to understand Mr Eastern, that I was young and so naïve when I first married. But as time progressed, I realised that nobody goes from being a ‘bobby’ on the beat to the rank of a DCI in the time it took my husband to achieve. And then of course, there’s his father to consider as well.”
“Him! Being the assistant Chief Constable as well.” At this point, Eastern’s mind was still at full stretch, he knew deep down, exactly what she was implying without her justifying it. And the idea of a ‘bent’ cop or two, could become a reality, by giving more credence to the basis of this letter. “Our Mister X, for want of a name, hasn’t exactly made life easy for you, or indeed myself should I take the case. I mean, whatever happened to good old fashioned blackmail? This case has got more facets than a cut diamond. I can fully understand why you distanced yourself from your husband. If at any time there was something untoward going on in the ranks, and Mister X is adamant there was, then the likelihood of any fresh evidence arising would be trashed.”
He paused long enough to throw his Scotch back, and looked at her long and hard. “I think I need another drink, this is beginning to sound like a very bad nightmare.” His fresh Scotch, only served to dampen his throat, leaving his personal headache to increase, as he tried to make sense of the bare facts. ‘Joe Public’ was one thing when it came to business, but the added grief of police intervention at the same time could lead to consequences of a personal and disturbing nature. “In theory,” he told himself, “it would be like trying to walk an electrified tightrope with no off switch. And I ain’t no bloody circus act.”
Mrs Conway then thankfully brought him down to earth. “It’s not looking good is it? I can clearly see that you are having reservations about taking the case.”
Eastern then made an effort to put her mind at rest. “If I consent, I will of course require a private contact number, and a joint arrangement on any decisions that arise. In the meantime, I will put a few feelers of my own out. Depending on my findings, I will contact you in 48 hours, and give you a concrete decision one way or another. As far as your domestic scene goes, just act natural, but keep a low profile if socialising.”
Driving back home that night, Eastern’s journey seemed to fly by. His evening overall had been an eye opener in more ways than one, starting from the moment Mrs Conway had introduced herself. “A working man’s sexual fantasy, classy with it, but somebody I could place my trust in,” summed up his reference.
Right now though, he had his sights set on far more important issues. With only two days remaining to come up with some answers to induce a decision of a lifetime would mean intense delving into the unknown on his part. “Have I got the bollocks to see it through?” became his opening gambit, as he recalled the previous incident to warn him off the case. “One thing I can be sure of, this case is either going to make or break me.” He concluded, “Oh, what the hell! What have I got to lose anyway?”
This was an ironic statement to arrive at, should one consider the possibility that the one person he would be compensated for in bringing down is exploiting the same line. For a betting man, that could prove to be one double you wouldn’t want to put your money on. Imagine this if you will: two individuals each sharing the same verbal persona, except to say, that one is legal (generally) and the other is a would-be felon. There has to be a winner, but therein lies the problem…so, which one would you personally back, having surveyed the facts?
CHAPTER III…Two meetings and one mind
Without question Eastern was feeling the heat. The morning following the ‘meet’ was deemed to be the first day of the rest of his life. As from now, Eastern would be on a non-negotiable deal with the devil 24/7. With 24 allotted hours remaining in which to obtain a kosher lead of any kind, things were not looking good. A spoonful of broken promises via an alcoholic ‘snout’ wasn’t exactly a passport to success. The only positive in return, was that his room appeared to have more appeal, as he surveyed his desktop through bleary eyes.
A collage of plastic coffee cups, some still half full, complimented an array of discarded dog ends, that had once found life in the various empty cigarette packets, now seeking refuge amongst a multitude of scrap note paper. The layered pall of smoke that hung between the floor and the ceiling, became an extra by giving a new dimension to his office. Purely by luck, his eyes fell on a tatty calling card, lying half hidden amongst the debris. It seemed to hold a form of fascination within its content, as he reached out to retrieve it. Turning the card over, the contact number he espied had the same effect on his body, by leaving an adrenalin rush.
“Shit! How the hell did I miss that? Bloody Detective Serg
eant (DS) Johnnie Curtis, now there’s a guy who owes me from way back. Yeah, about time I called in a favour.” Patience was running at a premium as the phone continued to ring. “Pick the damn thing up can’t you…oh, sorry, Mike Eastern speaking.”
“Mike? Mike…yeah, I’m with you now. Christ! It’s been a few months mate, what’s occurring? I presume you’re still in business?”
“Just about, (at least he was honest). You know how it is, same shit different day. Right now, I need to call in a favour Jonnie, I’m desperate. The case I’m involved with at the moment could prove to be my pension, know what I mean?”
“I don’t have a problem with that Mike, I still owe you from the ‘Lansbury’ Bank job. Just how big a favour are you looking for anyway?”
“Big wouldn’t even be close mate. Quite frankly, I’m seeking some information contained in a specific file.”
“Bloody hell Mike! You laid that one on me, you do realise that I’m based at HQ now? Blimey mate, you’ve got more chance of winning the National, riding a blasted donkey! I’m sorry mate, but that’s more than my job is worth…you know that.”
Eastern wasn’t going to give up that easily, by deciding to push their friendship. “I hear what you say, but I’m asking for all the right reasons. We both know that you have ‘friends’ downstairs, and that’s the only reason I’m asking. Believe me, it’s imperative that I secure the information I’m looking for.” His perseverance at this juncture appeared to pay off as Curtis appeared a trifle sympathetic.
“It’s obvious we are not talking about a two up and two down domestic here,” he supposed. “I get the distinct impression that you’re into something ‘heavy’, from what I can gather.” At this stage, Eastern decided to keep tight lipped about his suspicions, unless challenged and allowed Curtis to continue. “I make no promises Mike, I’ll do what I can, but you know the rules. If this deal winds up in the karzy, you’re on your own…understand? In fact, we never had this conversation full stop. Now, you’d better give me some details before I change my bloody mind.”
Eastern then went on to state the SP (information) he was seeking revolved around a certain prime suspect, who was found guilty of murder, made possible by damning evidence put forward by the Crown. The fact that the accused subsequently committed suicide a few months after being sent down, held the key to the file in question. He also went on to say that a certain DSI Conway was a key figure in handling the case. More importantly, the name of the alleged guilty party was paramount.
Jotting a few relayed notes down was the easy part, DS Curtis then once again laid Eastern’s request on the line. “This could take some time Mike. The fact that you haven’t mentioned when the case itself initially opened could prove to be a stumbling block. Just for the record, and merely an observation you understand, the name Conway suggests the word grief in itself. I feel sure that I had a run in with the guy some years ago. As I recall, he was an ambitious bastard at the time anyway, leave it with me, I’ll be in touch.” He then hung up.
Their conversation had proved invaluable, and more than he could have hoped for. Suddenly, Eastern was beginning to feel like the ‘cat that got the cream.’ “If anybody can get a result then Johnnie Curtis is the man in the frame. The sooner he can get some SP back to me the better,” was prominent in his mind. In spite of being handed a progressive boost, he was under no illusion as to the undertaking facing him. With that in mind and the prospect of a fruitful phone call in the offing made short work of the weekend and then it all too soon became Monday.
The desired telephone number had become a fixation in his mind, but that didn’t stop his hand from visibly shaking as he dialled the required digits.
“Mrs Conway speaking, how can I help?” Ignorant as to the origin of the landline, he’d already decided to let the recipient open the account up until he knew otherwise.
“Hi, it’s Mike Eastern here…is it okay to talk?”
“Oh, hello there.” She seemed a trifle surprised after he’d made himself known and continued. “I’m sorry, you kind of caught me on the hop. I really didn’t expect you to get back in touch…but yes, feel free to speak.” In return, it wasn’t the best reception he could have asked for and it showed in his thoughts. What the hell was wrong with the damn woman?
“Are you still there?” she interjected.
“I think we’ve both got off to a bad start Mrs Conway, I thought I made it quite clear that I would give an answer irrespective of my decision.”
“And I apologise for knowing that you stated just that, I can only hope the decision you have reached is a favourable one.”
“Well, just to put your mind at rest, after carrying out some research, and the financial side of things are agreeable, I’d be willing to take your case on board with a couple of provisos thrown in as well.”
“That’s more than I could hope for Mr Eastern…when could you possibly make a start?”
“As far as I’m concerned Mrs Conway, I already have, and rest assured that wheels are turning as we speak.”
“In that case, I suggest we arrange another meeting as soon as possible. Since we last spoke a financial development has surfaced. I don’t wish to pursue the facts over the telephone, but only to say that its relevance is vital to the case. I’ll get back to you tonight, say about 8.30pm with some instructions to see you the following night. Thank you again Mr Eastern, you’ll find that I am a very appreciative woman.”
Whether he took the single reference the wrong way or not, he did at least have the last word on the matter as he hung up. “Yeah and I’ve only been divorced three times your Ladyship, this is one relationship that’ll be strictly business!”
At the eleventh hour, Eastern made a rapid decision to ditch his car in favour of a cab for convenience sake. “I’ve got more chance of finding God than getting a parking space in Brighton!” he thought sardonically. The prearranged meeting set up by Mrs Conway, was a small Bistro type restaurant, set in the heart of the Kemptown areas to the east of the City, and well known for its gay provenance.
Eastern gave himself one last look in the mirror, and grimaced as a two way battle of dress code looked like taking a hammering. The eventual winner became an off-white suit backed up by a yellow open necked shirt. “I don’t believe I’m bloody doing this,” he growled. “I’ll put this lot down to expenses. She’s got me believing I’m the oldest ‘queen’ in town, what a way to make a poxy living!”
15 or so minutes later, and he was paying the cab off. The restaurant itself was situated at the end of a cul-de-sac, and apart from a dismal lantern hanging forlornly above the main door, the venue itself melted into the shadows of the adjacent buildings. “I’ve got to hand it to her she’s done her homework again, you wouldn’t find this ‘gaff’ in broad daylight, let alone bleedin’ night time.” With mixed emotions he entered the bistro and booked in under a chosen pseudonym. He’d almost finished his first drink when she finally made an appearance.
Any formal debate became lost on a ‘double take’ as Mrs Conway apologised for her delay. Eastern was briefly struggling for words, as a wave of expensive perfume filled his nostrils, while the outfit that she was ‘nearly’ wearing was something else.
“That’s fine…forget it, and by the way the wait was worth it.” Moments later the reference came back to bite him in the arse as he recalled his previous singular approach to their contact namely, “Never mind the gloss, just think pound notes.” Easy to say when said quickly, and he would be the first to admit that or a lady, she’s one hell of a chick, and all woman at that.
Needless to say, the following few hours slotted into good food and drink, while enjoying pleasant banter with the wine doing a better job than a prompt. “You looked as if you enjoyed that Mike.” She then checked herself, “I’m sorry that was forward of me, I…” Mike didn’t flinch.
“I wouldn’t dwell on it, you’ll only spoil a quality evening besides which, that is what my closest friends call me�
��tell you what, here’s the deal. I’m Mike and…”
“You can call me Joan if you like,” she offered in return. They then both shook hands. He wished somehow that she wouldn’t let go.
“I’ll settle for that, yeah I like that…Joan. Now then, business! You mentioned on the phone that you’ve got some fresh information for me?” He laughed, “let’s hope it’s as good as our last deal.” Mrs Conway nodded and smiled in agreement before speaking.
“Basically, it concerns my estranged husband’s financial affairs.”
“Right! So there is a strong connection between that, and the case as a whole?”
She was doing her best to remain convincing. “Indirectly I’m compelled to say yes, I get the feeling he’s involved in a money making scheme, and has been for some time,” she stressed.
“A backhander fever comes to mind.” He mused. “Have you any proof, and if you have, how does it tie him in with this case?”
“I’ll let you be the judge of that Mike, I came across a strange phone number purely by chance, inside the drawer of a bureau I happened to be clearing out. It had obviously been there for some time. Intrigued as I was, I then dialled the number.”
“And?” Eastern was like a dog on a leash at this stage.
“Would you believe it belonged to a Swiss bank?”
Eastern woefully shook his head, “He certainly had you fooled Joan, but my instincts are telling me that your husband is verging on being ‘bent’ as we say, but why I ask myself. I honestly think that this whole scenario is all about getting illegitimate results, capped off by a fast track promotion from the same source. I’d give anything to know how many innocent people he’s managed to put away.”
“Well, even though we don’t know the name of Mister X yet, we do at least know of one person he’s managed to ‘fit up’ as you might say.”