by Gary Tulley
“Why do you say that?” Joan questioned.
“Flats, right now are at a premium. His place would have been snapped up within minutes under normal circumstances. Which reminds me, the Hove implication isn’t looking very secure. How do you feel about relocating, and changing your life style at the same time? He’s managed to find you once, don’t let him give us another opportunity…right?” Joan pondered for a while before committing herself.
“It would be a wrench, but it makes sense Mike, plus of course a showdown discussion with my husband. Incidentally, you need to brief me on that one, it is imperative to know what he has got planned. Especially with the probe case hanging over him.” Eastern chewed on his lip before replying.
“Amen to that.” He concluded and went on.” We’re in no man’s land at the moment and delving comes to mind. First thing tomorrow, I’ll pay the caretaker a visit at Dowling’s old flat – he doesn’t miss a trick. In the meantime, I need you to contact your husband, and chase up some letting agents as well. I’ll phone you around midday, and then we can pool what feed back what we have, if any.”
Everything that could have been said was now buried. It was now time to relax. Together, they still found plenty to talk about, although the topic of conversation had nothing to do with the case. The evening finished on a high and unexpected note, much to Eastern’s surprise. On arrival back at his flat that night, the suspect lock to his front door worked perfectly for the first time in months.”
CHAPTER VII…Food for thought
Mike Eastern’s judgement on the subject of outside catering looked set for a bad day. All due to the ‘culinary delights’ served up by the ‘OVERDONE RASHER’ - that, being the media café situated opposite his flat. Having had the benefit deriving from a good night’s sleep under his belt, meant that it was going to take something a little bit special to cap it off. All Eastern had to do was cross the road.
The proprietor greeted him in his own flamboyant cockney manner, as he strode in. “Morning Mike, how’s life in the underworld? That bad, eh?” he took it on himself to presume. “So what’s yer stomach saying mate, breakfast ‘A’ or ‘B’?”
“What’s the difference then Benny?” he quipped, “assuming that they’re both legal of course.
“Not a lot, they’re both kosher, although ‘B’ is £1.50 cheaper on account there’s less grease involved.”
“In that case, I’ll run with the ‘B’. By the way, I don’t suppose you’ve got a morning paper kicking around?”
“You’re a bleedin’ PI for God’s sake. You find a clue, I’ve gotta business to run.” As luck would have it, Eastern spotted what he’d been looking for on a nearby table. No! he hadn’t missed it, Benny’s debateable coffee had seen to that. A particular article on the inside page of the ‘Clarion’ screamed back at him.
A FURTHER SUSPENSION AS CONSPIRACY PROBE GATHERS MOMENTUM
The crime report went on to say that amongst other things, as of last night, another member of the local force, this time attached to the vice squad, had been placed on suspension pending further enquiries, bringing the total number of suspects to three. When challenged by reporters, as he was seen leaving Brighton Central this morning, DCI Conway refused to make any comment, and was driven away to HQ in an unmarked police car accompanied by his father, a Chief Constable Daniel Conway.
“There yer go mate, get yer ‘Hampstead Heath’ (teeth) round that little lot.” Eastern’s space was suddenly invaded by Benny as he arrived with his order. The latter’s interest was then drawn to the conspiracy article that Eastern was reading.
“Funny old business that,” he commented and motioned towards the press report.
“Uhm…?” Eastern was heavily engrossed to notice, and nodded robotically.
“The reference to the ‘Old Bill’, it bleedin’ stinks mate, what’s your take on it?” Eastern glanced upward looking a trifle fazed.
“Oh, sorry mate…I was miles away…yeah, the breakfast looks the business…thanks.” A confused Benny scratched his head, and walked away muttering to himself.
Digesting the facts in the press report would have been a whole lot simpler than Benny’s idea of a greaseproof breakfast, had he known Eastern’s interest in the case. Foremost on his mind, as he mulled it over, would be in knowing the identify of the whistleblower. “What wouldn’t I give for that?” he wondered. “Or the location of the ‘safe house’ he’s occupying. Although in retrospect, I wouldn’t give a Lottery win in exchange for that poor sucker’s neck. I wonder what induced him to go public in the first place? Somebody must have really pissed him off. And nobody is saying whether he’s straight or indeed if he’s a member of the ‘bent’ brigade.”
In summing up, his close run alleged legal breakfast might possibly have numbed his brain into disregarding one other vital aspect. “Credulous as it seems, who’s to say that Dowling or the informant himself isn’t ensnared in a bizarre double act of their own?” Food for thought would serve as a pub under the circumstances.
“I’ll catch you later Benny,” he called out minutes later, and exited the café. Once outside he headed for the Seven Dials, intent on checking his theory that Dowling might have been reinstated at his old flat.
Ignoring the use of the ground floor flat bell, he decided to take the steps leading down to the basement, on a whim that the caretaker was home. Eastern wasn’t about to be disappointed as recognition came easy.
“I know you, don’t I? You were here the other week. I wish someone would tell me what’s going on, nobody tells me anything these days. He’s back you know…him in flat two. He arrived a couple of days ago out of the blue. Told me that he had some business up North that needed sorting out. Poxy job, I dunno where I am.”
Thus far, Eastern had opted to remain silent, as the caretaker appeared to be on a verbal roll. Eastern was now struggling to suppress his elation. Without having to ask for it, he’d just been handed the relevant information he’d craved for, on a platter. At least he wasn’t short in showing his gratitude.
“Here, take this, something for your trouble. Go and buy yourself a new broom.” Without any ado, he stuffed a £10 note in the man’s hand. “Just one other thing, unless I call round again, you’ve not seen me before…got it? Oh, I almost forgot, here’s my card. In the event you spot anything out of the norm, then bell me…yeah?”
“Sure guv, I get the picture. Leave it with me. Eyes and ears eh?”
“Please God” Eastern told himself and went on his way, leaving a disillusioned caretaker to wonder why anybody would want to give him £10 to buy a broom he didn’t want.
On the way back to his own flat, Eastern couldn’t help to disguise his good fortune in knowing Dowling had possibly blown his cover. And, as a result, was now a prime candidate for intense scrutiny 24/7 if necessary. He also reminded him that a nothing to lose call with his internal ally DS Curtis was on the cards.
“Johnnie, yeah it’s Mike Eastern. I thought we might have a chat.”
“Hi Mike, would that be as in shop, or is it just a courtesy call?”
“That depends on what you know that I don’t. I’m interested in your elusive chief witness for the Crown.”
“Isn’t everybody? You should know better than to ask mate. The press of course are under orders, plus the poor bastard who’s doing all the ‘singing’, is meanwhile wrapped up in cotton wool.”
“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then Johnnie?”
“Good try Mike…oh, there is one thing I managed to pick up on.”
“Anything…anything at all you think might help.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I recently had access to a taped statement, made by the whistleblower, prior to the suspensions. You can distinctly hear him saying the word ‘we’ twice within a thirty minute period. I thought it sounded most odd at the time, especially as nobody else had referred to it. Since then, having heard and read other transcripts made by him, the word ‘we’ does
n’t appear at all. It’s almost as if he’s corrected himself.”
“I find that very interesting, and I understand how it could become vital as a possible lead. The fact ‘we’ is prominent, leads you to think that he’s talking on behalf of himself and an unknown associate. What’s your personal angle on it?”
“I’d have to say go along with it Mike, and draw what ever conclusions you can from it.”
“Thanks Johnnie, it’s given me something to think about, I’ll be in touch.”
Question, was the omission by the whistleblower a genuine one, or had he indeed made an open blunder in the heat of his initial interrogation? Eastern was still searching for the answer to the problem as his head hit the pillow later on that night.
The following morning, he was alerted by his mobile sounding off. In seconds he was on the case. “Okay Joan, that suits me fine, give me 20 minutes or so and I’ll be over. We can discuss it then…yeah…bye now.”
Smiling discreetly, he pocketed his mobile, after taking out a time check. There was no hiding the air of confidence in his manner. “9.50am” he remarked jubilantly. “Can’t be bad, normally I’d still be herding bleedin’ sheep.” One last look of appraisal in his mirror and a final swig of alleged coffee before he left the flat, found him heading down New Church Road in Hove.
“Hi Mike, come in. God, you didn’t waste any time getting here. I hope it’s for all the right reasons?” Wearing a see through lace trimmed silk negligee, Joan ushered him through to the lounge.
“There is one or two that quickly came to mind.” He told himself and averted his gaze away from his negligee.
“Mike!”
“Sorry Joan I was miles away, bit early for me, saying that I could well get used to it.” Ten minutes later, over a genuine coffee, Joan explained that an arranged meeting, specifically for a showdown with her husband, had now become a gilt-edged reality. When grooming her approach as to whether she declared any interest in her own precarious situation, volatile as it was, would remain vital. A hasty decision one way or another could further antagonise her current ‘face off’ with enigma Andy Dowling.
The short answer to that, and few other foreseeable problems, now lay directly at the feet of an unexpected force that nobody, apart from its instigator could have possibly known about. On a more positive note, Joan went on to say that she had been successful in securing fresh accommodation, namely a larger flat located in the ‘village’ (a pseudonym for Brunswick Square). It was available for occupation in a week’s time. For his part, Eastern lost no time in divulging the fact that their dual hunch had indeed come home to roost, and ensuring that Dowling was no longer untouchable.
How far that assumption extended to, needed to be clarified. And chasing shadows wasn’t what he was getting paid for. In the end, it was left to DC Curtis to take the brunt of his frustration, following a call.
“Hi Johnnie, it’s me again.”
“Blimey Mike, this is getting to be a habit, you’ll be requesting an enrolment form at this rate.”
“No bloody way mate, besides it doesn’t pay enough,” he quipped and went on. “Listen I thought you might be interested to learn, seeing as you’re on the case indirectly, that I’ve managed to pin Andy Dowling down at last. Bearing in mind my clients enforced involvement with the guy, does that give you enough to bring him in?” His response wasn’t what Eastern expected.
“Most unlikely mate, verbal threats only rank as hearsay as you know, and assumption doesn’t wash I’m afraid.”
“And the letters that she’s received, that must count for something?”
“Once again no, he’ll just deny everything. Besides which, how do you know that he wrote them anyway?”
“It was worth a try Johnnie, thanks anyway…be in touch.” What had started on a high note now looked like turning into a shit day at the office. That is until Joan suggested they might listen to the Southern Radio news, over a spontaneous lunch invitation. In retrospect her timing turned out to be faultless. And the outcome itself, explosive as they struggled to take in the consequences arising from a situation that was rapidly spiralling out of control. The news flash that broke was as follows:
A report issued by a police press spokesperson earlier on today, has confirmed that a high ranking police officer attached to the crime squad in the city has been arrested and charged with conspiracy to pervert the course of justice. This now brings the total of arrests to four, although earlier reports coming in fear that more could be imminent. The officer, who has not yet been named for legal reasons, had been targeted following an internal investigation by the IPCC. He is now on remand to appear before Brighton Magistrates tomorrow morning, where he will be formally charged. Reporting restrictions have been lifted and full coverage will now be available as fresh reports come in.
Momentarily, a stony silence ensued, before Eastern finally decided to turn the radio off. Meanwhile, Joan’s face remained expressionless. A bolt from the blue would have had less effect on her, as she endeavoured to come to terms with the situation. Instinctively, Eastern matched her gaze in a sympathetic gesture, before she returned to a form of normality. From the off, Joan appeared to be reluctant to converse, leaving Eastern to break the deadlock.
“I’m so sorry you had to listen to that, although we were both aware it would only be a matter of time before his luck ran out. But it doesn’t make your position any easier in knowing that, I’m afraid.”
“I’ve been dreading this moment Mike. That bastard has put my life through the wringer these last few months…I’m sorry…I…”
“Don’t be!” he expounded. “You’re the victim here remember. If you can handle this much Joan, then you will get through this. I promise you.” His persuasive and direct manner seemed to have an immediate effect on her. In no time at all, Joan regained her natural composure.
“You’re right of course Mike, although Dowling isn’t going to be too impressed, once the report becomes official, is he?”
Eastern was quick to sense her implication. Realising that Dowling could now be subjected to more pressure to gain the one thing that was paramount in controlling his manic desire, for personal retribution. All the time Conway senior was an outside player in the charade. Dhe held that one chance (slim as it was) to cajole if need be, a confession of sorts from him, and therefore legitimise Dowling’s claim to his father’s innocence.
The plain fact was, that as from now, Conway could well find himself ‘banged up’ indefinitely, would only ensure in severing the one link that Dowling was banking on. As a result, somebody was going to have to pay dearly for the inconvenience. And Joan, through ill-timed circumstances, had now become the ‘fall guy’ in taking whatever mode of revenge his maniacal personal desired. “The sooner you vacate this place, the better I’ll feel.” Eastern declared, and remained insistent. “Promise me that you’ll book into a hotel, at least until the other flat is ready. In the meantime, I’ll do a random stakeout on Dowling’s place at the Dials…saying that, I’d love five minutes free time in there. It would be an opportunity to put myself about, now that would be an education. Yeah, I guess I’m going to have to work on that caretaker again. Yeah, I figure he’s ripe for another backhander.”
Apart from the conspiracy case continually hugging the news, the next few days were proving to be negative, in terms of investigative momentum. Surviving on a staple diet of donuts, burgers and stewed coffee for 48 hours while on a stake out did little to convince Eastern that Dowling had indeed become a physical threat. On the flip side, he felt convinced that his own well being had now entered the first stages of inheriting a duodenal ulcer. Moreover, since his pre-planned move back to his original flat, Dowling had been seduced into playing the role of an unconditional hermit, only surfacing to obtain a morning paper. Fortunately for Eastern, with ‘lady luck’ in the ascendancy, this particular morning began to look favourable. At around 8.30am, Dowling finally emerged on cue, only this time, he a
ppeared to be suitably dressed.
Once again Eastern checked his watch. “Please God he’s on his way into town. Ten poxy minutes, that’s all I need in that bolthole of his.” He emphasised. He kept Dowling in his observation up until he boarded a bus heading for Queens Road. Show time was at a premium in the stock market and Eastern wasn’t about to contemplate, there being a loss on his behalf. To increase his assets would entail a further deposit, should he intend to make a ‘killing’ (secure information) via the sticky hands of the ‘broomstick’ caretaker.
“C’mon…c’mon…where the bleedin’ hell are you?” His woeful patience appeared to be thinner than a razor edge, as he repeatedly took it out on the door.
By now, his intimidating patience began to get rattled, on a par with the door he was banging on. Then, without warning, his fist met fresh air, as the door suddenly flew open, to reveal the dishevelled caretaker attempting to hold his trousers up. Momentarily he was taken aback. “Can’t a man even have a ….” Hesitating he stopped dead in his tracks, and expressed a double take before committing himself. “Oh, it’s you I see, I as just about to say I…” Eastern nodded robotically, and swiftly dismissed any lurking conclusions with a wave of his hand.
“Yeah…yeah…forget that. Now listen, I need a favour and you look like you need the money. How would you like to invest in two more brooms?” His timely offer seemed to hit the caretaker between the eyes, consequently igniting his brain into thinking he was smart.
“Why not? I bought one before as you suggested mate, I suppose I could always use another two.” By now, the grin on Eastern’s face was in full flight, as it met up wit his ears.
“Now you’re talking sense, you’re nobody’s fool I can see that.” He replied in an exaggerated and patronising manner and proceeded to wave some folded money in front of him. “Here, take this poney (£25) for your trouble. All I need in return is access to flat two, just for a short while.” He assured him. “Now that wasn’t too hard was it?” At this point, the dizzy caretaker appeared to be totally lost in translation as the inducement changed hands and continually muttered ‘brooms’ to himself as he fumbled in his pocket for a pass key, which he duly handed over.