The Criminal Escapades of Geoffrey Larkin

by R. W. Hughes

  ‘I liked my job at the garage, it was great until this last scam went belly-up,’ voiced John gloomily.

  ‘The same here,’ answered Derek. ‘My boss has just offered me a rise as well.’

  Even though they fought against it, they knew that it was inevitable; if they wanted to survive they could leave it no longer, so the group unenthusiastically decided to depart the area. On Geoff’s insistence they were reluctantly persuaded and agreed with much grumbling to leave that very same night.

  The Bolton brothers would go back to their digs, pack a couple of holdalls and leave an envelope with a couple of weeks rent with a note explaining that they had left quickly because of a family bereavement but they would be back shortly. Geoff would do the same for the digs he and Sooty shared.

  In two hours’ time they agreed they would all meet at the town railway station.

  When the Bolton brothers had left, Geoff searched around and found several large plain envelopes. In the first, addressed to Mrs. Oaks in the flat below, he placed the money for two weeks rent, using clean money taken from the cash points, along with a short note explaining their sudden departure. He would slip it under her door when Sooty and he left the premises that night.

  Next he collected all the forged £20 notes, counted them and placed them in three piles. He thought at the last count that he had enough for three equal amounts, but there was so much money he must have been mistaken. He placed the first pile in one of the envelopes and addressed it to Mr. Daniel Goodier, Managing Director, The Show House, Goodier Estates. The second envelope he addressed to Mr. David Higgins at the address that Ian Lovett, the probation officer, had given him that morning. The third he addressed to the principal, Mr. Tattersall, at the school. These envelopes he would place in the post box at the railway station. With all these men he reckoned he had a score to settle.

  He had no doubt whatsoever that they would spend the money no questions asked. That would, he hoped, throw both the police and the gang of murderers off the scent for a while. While he was writing the addresses, he gave Sooty the envelope addressed to the landlord. ‘Go down and slip it under the door of Mrs. Oaks’ flat Sooty, then to wait in the corridor; I’ll be down in a few minutes.’ Sooty threw his haversack over his shoulder then went, as quietly as he could, down the stairs.

  He slipped the envelope under the gap at the bottom of Mrs. Oaks’ apartment door then he took a £20 note from his top pocket and slipped that under the door as well. He felt quite independent and proud of his actions as he stood in the dark hallway waiting for Geoff. All those £20 notes lying about on the kitchen table, no one would notice if one was missing. Anyway, he quite liked the old lady and he hoped this would go some way to compensate her for having to clean the mud from his work boots off the stairs.

  It was dark when the lads met at the pre-arranged time at the bus stop. Geoff had felt it safer to catch the bus rather than risk being caught on the railway station security cameras. He also used one of the credit cards at a cash point. Seeing that the card was still operating and had not been stopped, he used several of the other cards at the same cash point then several more at two points near the bus stop.

  *

  It was a disappointed Constable Wilson who reported back to Sergeant Robinson that morning, at the incident room in the police station, passing on a message from the printing works.

  ‘The speed camera had caught the speeding cyclist highlighting his number plate which was what it was designed to do. It also picked out a pedestrian in the background but, unfortunately, the details of the pedestrian were rather blurred. The technicians at the photography printing works informed me that the equipment they had available was not advanced or designed to highlight his features more than they already had done.’

  ‘We’re not making a lot of progress constable,’ voiced a thoughtful Sergeant Robinson, chewing the end of his pencil.

  ‘The printing company suggested we could try sending the film to the FBI in the States. They said their equipment is far superior to anything that is available in the UK.’

  ‘Okay, you do that, Wilson,’ said the sergeant as he picked up the phone that had started to ring. ‘Oh, and when you’ve done that, come down to the interview room. They’ve just told me they have picked up the last one of those four that were near the station. It’s the mate of Higgins, it’s his cousin, Wilf Norton,’ shouted Robinson as Constable Wilson went through the office door.

  It was an hour later in the interview room that the associate of Dave Higgins, who had previously refused to say anything at all, was being interrogated. His silence continued until he had been shown photographs of his friend in the hospital and Sergeant Robinson had read out the doctor’s report on the injuries that the town’s hard case had sustained. Subtly hinting that the same gang, not having obtained the information they wanted from Sidney Locket, would by now have their feelers out and at this very moment would be looking for him.

  ‘We’ve got a name for that figure crossing the road, Wilson,’ said the sergeant gleefully, ‘he was recognised by this character in the interview room. He knew him from when they were together at the young offenders’ institution. His name is Larkin, Geoffrey Larkin. The name rings a bell with me but I just can’t place where from. You check the remand centre and get one of the other officers to contact the probation services. In the meantime, I’ll call a meeting for half an hour’s time then we’ll get a team together to pay Mr. Larkin and any of his associates a visit.’

  It was half an hour later, Sergeant Paul Robinson was briefing the rest of the team involved in the case who had gathered in the operations room at short notice. ‘Okay lads! We have more information that is for your ears only and not for gossiping with anybody not associated with this case. We’ve got, at the moment, the name of a person who was at the scene of several serious scams operated in the area over the last couple of years. He has a record as a juvenile for petty theft. I am not saying he is involved but he’s a prime suspect in these outstanding scams. So, we need to bring him in for questioning on these cases.

  ‘We have an address for him but what has come to light and is very interesting is that he shares a flat and they were working together when the attempt to move the safe from the electricity board compound took place. There are also two more people that are known to associate with Larkin. These are two brothers, John and Derek Bolton. These also share a room at the hostel so we will be asking them to join us as well. Okay, we are splitting up into two teams. You’ve got your addresses of where these four live and work so let’s get out there. See if when we come back here we have four characters who can throw some more light on their criminal activities.’

  Sergeant Robinson had been at great pains at the meeting to disassociate any of these lads with forged £20 notes, the serious assault on Locket and the murder of Mr. X! He would wait until he had them under lock and key for their own safety, before it became common knowledge of their involvement with the theft of the briefcase.

  *

  Sergeant Robinson was standing at the top of the stairs outside the door of Geoff Larkin and Harry Sutton’s flat. He had just given instructions for the uniformed policeman at his side to break down the door, when a shout from Constable Wilson from the bottom of the stairs caused him to try and restrain the officer.

  ‘There’s a lady here sergeant, with a key to that flat.’ Too late, the flimsy door burst open at the first blow from the hand-operated jack wielded by the uniformed officer.

  Robinson groaned inwardly. That would be another letter of complaint on its way to the chief constable from an irate landlord about heavy-handed destructive police methods.

  A search of the small bed-sit brought nothing of interest to light, there were several items of clothing scattered about and some drawers left open as if there had been a very hurried recent departure.

  An old, tarnished spoon wrapped in a linen cloth at the back of one of the drawers in the kitchen cabinet had been found by one of the u
niformed constables.

  ‘It looked like it was placed there for safekeeping sarge,’ said Constable Wilson, holding up the long spoon in his gloved hand.

  ‘It could be theirs or it could well be a previous tenant’s. Send it to the lab for prints and check on items stolen in recent burglaries. We’ll see what turns up.’

  Several phone calls from the other teams informed Sergeant Robinson that the Bolton brothers’ room was also empty. Enquiries at their place of work confirmed that none of the three suspects had turned up for work that day.

  Geoff Larkin, according to his probation officer, had missed a second interview that had been arranged. Mr. Lovett was definitely putting him on his report this time.

  ‘I don’t think our friend, Mr. Larkin, will be unduly worried about being put on a report at this moment in time!’ the sergeant mused to himself as he heard the last telephone message.

  ‘This is the lady from the bed-sit below sergeant,’ said Constable Wilson as he ushered in Mrs. Oaks just as the last of the search team was leaving the bed-sit.

  ‘Hello, Mrs. Oaks, I’m sorry to disturb your afternoon. Do you know when these two lads left?’ he asked, offering the old lady the only chair in the room.

  ‘Well, it must have been late last night or very early this morning. They pushed this envelope underneath my door, addressed to our landlord,’ quivered a nervous Mrs. Oaks, not used to being surrounded by so many large men.

  Sergeant Robinson took the envelope offered to him by Mrs. Oaks. It was still sealed but he could tell by the feel that the envelope contained money. He opened the envelope, reading the note addressed to the landlord. Nothing relevant there; of the £20 notes in the envelope none were forgeries. He placed the envelope in a plastic bag then removed the super fine gloves he was wearing.

  ‘I’m afraid we’ll have to keep the envelope for evidence for the time being Mrs. Oaks. My constable will give you a receipt and we’ll inform your landlord of the circumstances so you’ve no need to worry yourself. Did the boys have any visitors that you were aware of?’ asked Sergeant Robinson in a kindly tone.

  ‘Well, there were those two other friends of theirs. They were always here and then there was a Mr. Lovett. He called recently but, apart from them, there has been nobody else. Oh, I nearly forgot, they also left a £20 note. I have it here.’ Mrs. Oaks brought out from her pinafore a neatly folded new £20 note. Sergeant Robinson indicated to Constable Wilson to take it from her as he was still wearing his gloves.

  A quick inspection was followed by a nod from the constable who mouthed ‘forgery’ from behind Mrs. Oaks. ‘I’m afraid we’ll have to confiscate this as evidence, Mrs. Oaks. The constable will give you another receipt.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said a startled Mrs. Oaks. ‘They seemed such nice boys as well.’

  ‘You have no need to worry, Mrs. Oaks, it’s nothing serious,’ lied the sergeant.

  ‘Constable Wilson will see you down the stairs and don’t you worry about anything. Just give your landlord’s address to the constable and we’ll sort everything out with him.’

  As Mrs. Oaks and Constable Wilson left the room, Robinson could hear them making their way down the wooden stairs. He sat down on the single chair just vacated by Mrs. Oaks trying to visualise what had been discussed and what decisions had been made in this cramped room by the four young men who had found themselves involved in a situation in which they were obviously and completely out of their depth.

  He had racked his brain at the name of Geoff Larkin identified by Dave Higgins in the interview room, until he recalled the assistant salesman at the housing estate. It all began to slip into place. Before that, the lad had been cleaning out the cabin where the copper wire had gone missing. Even though the gipsies had been charged and convicted with that offence, they had been most colourfully verbal in their claims of police framing them of the theft of the copper wire.

  The attempted theft of the safe from the electric board offices; he was working there then. There was also the theft of the materials from the building site and this young guy, Larkin, had been in a prime position to know the movements of all the personnel on the site.

  It had also come to light that he had been employed temporary in the office of the distribution warehouse on the industrial estate where the manager and two associates had been convicted of theft. They also had stringently denied stealing the vast amount of goods they were charged with.

  This Geoffrey Larkin was a clever opportunist and didn’t let the grass grow under his feet; he was obviously the brains behind this gang of small-time crooks. But he’d certainly dropped himself and his mates into the shit big time with his recent escapade. For their own safety, Sergeant Robinson hoped he could find and apprehend the lads before, what was obviously a ruthless gang with international contacts, did so.

  Also to add to the mountain of problems, he suspected there was an informer in this, his own, police station. It seemed the forgers were being kept informed with information just as fast as he was!

  Chapter Thirteen

  The sergeant’s thoughts were interrupted by Constable Wilson entering the room. ‘I’ve settled Mrs. Oaks down in her apartment with a cup of tea. She’ll be fine now, sarge,’ volunteered the constable.

  ‘What do you think of the situation, Wilson?’ enquired Robinson, leaning back on the rear legs of the chair.

  ‘Well,’ started the constable, making himself comfortable on the edge of the table. ‘I think we both know that this lad, Larkin, is a cunning little bugger having probably been involved in several recent scams where, I reckon, he’s skimmed the cream big time then walked away unscathed, leaving the small-time pilferers to carry the can. How I read it, he probably crossed the road to avoid a confrontation with Dave Higgins and his gang just as Mr. X was leaving the taxi. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to lift the briefcase, possibly throwing it in the back of his mate’s van, who just happened to be working there. He then used some of the cash locally which was picked up by the bank but I think he has something of more importance in his possession belonging to this heavy mob, for them to resort to murder and attempted murder. What concerns me is this heavy mob seem to be getting information as fast as we are.’

  Sergeant Robinson smiled to himself. The constable had come to the identical conclusion that he had but had not voiced the fact in so many words. He also suspected an informer in the team.

  ‘I think that, under the circumstances and for the time being, we keep to ourselves the information about the forged £20 note given to the old lady, Wilson,’ said the sergeant thoughtfully. ‘That’s why I was not more specific at the meeting; we will keep the information about these lads as suspects of the briefcase theft from Mr. X to ourselves. We’ll say our enquiries were connected with the previous scams that Larkin and his gang were involved in. It will possibly buy us a little time and also, more importantly, it could well save their young lives!’

  *

  Geoffrey Larkin and his three mates had caught the bus heading out of town that night. They had left the vehicle, at Geoff’s suggestion, before it reached the city terminal. Also on his suggestion they divided into pairs so as to be less obvious, they did not want to increase the risk of being picked up on any of the many surveillance cameras operating in the city.

  Still in pairs, they booked into a back street hotel for a week paying cash, mentioning casually that they were working in the area on a construction contract. It was only Sooty who had a good night’s sleep. None of the other lads slept a wink. They were very tense and wide awake at the slightest of sounds.

  It was a bleary-eyed trio that met at breakfast the following morning to discuss their future plans.

  ‘What do we do today, Geoff?’ asked a curious John Bolton. His brother also looked at Geoff enquiringly from across the breakfast table while Sooty just continued to butter his fourth round of toast.

  Geoff had given it quite a lot of thought through his sleepless night. He had come to the conclusion
, rightfully, that the credit cards were being left open so as to enable the owners to try and trace their whereabouts. He had decided to suggest they should spend some of their cash buying some decent clothes; this would keep the rest of the lads’ minds off their present situation, for a while anyway. It would also help pass the group off as one of the many thousands who were in the city.

  Later that afternoon he wanted to contact his fence, Jock. He decided that while he was doing this, the rest of the team could go to the all-day cinema. There were many in the city centre, all of which were showing the most up-to-date films. He reckoned they reduced the chance of being spotted if they frequented the more heavily populated hot spots.

  The telephone conversation that Geoff had with his contact, Jock, was expensive but most productive. The fence could provide the items required at £1000 each.

  What he needed from them were passport photographs that could be taken from any of the main post offices in the area plus the age, height, colour of eyes and hair of each individual and some other minor details, and of course, the cash paid in advance.

  Geoff met the rest of the team as they appeared from the cinema, taking them into a nearby coffee shop that had outside tables on a promenade with a pleasant view overlooking the canal that passed through the centre of the city. The sight of the canal sent shivers down Geoff’s spine as he had visions of the courier who had met a watery grave in similar waters. Still, they could not be overheard where they were seated as Geoff explained to them about the passports.

  There was a stunned silence before John Bolton eventually spoke, a hint of panic in his voice. ‘I didn’t think it would come to this Geoff. If I’d have known, me and our kid wouldn’t have become involved.’ His brother Derek didn’t contribute to the conversation, just nodding in agreement, leaving all the talking to his older brother.