“Do it slowly,” the first cop ordered.
Vinnie complied, and once the situation was resolved, the lead officer made some caustic comment about how he and Rob had nearly got themselves shot by not waiting outside. He ignored it, as he knew they were in the wrong, and thanked both ARV officers sincerely before dismissing them. No doubt Delany would get to hear, but what the hell, a man’s life is in danger.
He turned his attentions back to the flat, looking for any other clues as to what had taken place. After all, Jimmy may have just decided to disappear, who could blame him. He went into the bathroom and, sure enough, the cabinet was open, with an old can of shaving foam on its side as its only inhabitant. Hard to know what should be in there to start with, Jimmy didn’t strike him as a modern man when it came to lotions and potions. He pushed the mirrored door shut, and started to turn back towards the room door when something caught his eye. He spun around and saw the word ‘help’ written on the glass in what looked like toothpaste. It had been hidden from view when the cabinet door was open.
“Rob,” he shouted, “this is getting worse and worse.”
*
Back in Delany’s office Vinnie quickly updated his boss.
“For fuck’s sake …” Delany started.
This surprised Vinnie as he had never heard Delany swear before, not that he’d worked with him too much over the years. He continued, asking Rob to give them a minute. Vinnie guessed what was coming as Rob closed the door behind him.
“What did I tell you?” Delany asked.
“I know, boss, but I felt responsible for potentially leading Moxley to Jimmy the Jemmy’s address, and I didn’t know how long it would take the …”
Delany interrupted him. “When you join the officer class, you join a club, where we have to stick together in order to show unity. By all means have debates behind closed doors, but out there to the rank and file, we must appear as one.”
Vinnie was used to this rhetoric and had always been uncomfortable with it. He’d been in management meetings where he’d heard senior officers effectively write a constable or sergeant’s career off, based on no more than speculation; often fed by information from some brown-noser.
“I made a judgement call, that’s all, based on what I saw on arrival.”
“So, if the front door hadn’t been open or ajar, or whatever, you’d have waited for the ARV?”
“Of course,” Vinnie lied.
“Well, I guess we’ll never know now. So I’ll let it slide, but from now on I want unity from you.”
Delany really had been behind a desk too long and was steadily going down in Vinnie’s estimation.
“I mean, what sort of example does this set to your DC, Rob?”
“I actually told him to wait outside, but he refused.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Delany spat.
Vinnie could see the older man’s cheeks reddening up, and didn’t want to be the cause of a heart attack, even if he was winding himself up in Vinnie’s opinion. He threw his hands in the air, and said, “Okay, okay boss. Let’s not fall out. You’re right.”
Delany seemed to calm down then and said he’d forget it, and they started to talk about which actions – or lines of enquiry – they should now prioritise. Obviously finding Jimmy was at the top, with finding Moxley, not to mention Foster and Gregg.
“We need more detectives,” Vinnie said.
“I do realise that, but I’ve only just come off the phone to the detective chief super, and he said we’ll have to manage for now. There’s been a gangland shooting in Longsight; three dead, and with gang violence high up the political agenda, that’s drawing all spare capacity at the mo.”
Vinnie was about to answer when his mobile rang, no number displayed, he smiled at his boss, who nodded as he pressed the green icon to accept. “Hello, DI Palmer,” he said.
There was a short pause, and he was about to repeat his greeting, when the caller spoke.
“Interesting to put a voice to a face, not quite what I expected,” said a northern voice.
“Who is this?”
“Don’t you know? Not much of a detective are you.”
Vinnie initially thought it might be a hoax or some old lag he’d nicked in the past. Such things happened from time to time, but usually on the desk phones in the office. This was his mobile. “How did you get this number?”
“Some idiot on your switchboard gave it me, it was easier than I expected. Just gave them some old fanny about urgent info and not knowing what number I was on. You really should retrain your staff,” the voice said.
Vinnie was straining to recognise the caller, but it was difficult: he’d come across so many idiots while doing this job. “Look,” he answered, “I’m not sure what your beef is, but I haven’t got time to play games with you. If I’ve pissed you off in the past, then fine: hopefully, I’ll get the chance to do it again in the future,” Vinnie said, noting he had Delany’s full attention.
“You’ve got me wrong, I really am ringing with urgent info,” the voice continued.
Vinnie very much doubted this and wasn’t about to indulge the moron by asking ‘what’? simply to get an earful of abuse. He was more bothered about the fact an operator had apparently given his mobile number out, and the hassle that would ensue in changing it. Time to end this.
“Look, mate, you’ve had your fun, and as I’m in the middle of a serious crime investigation – which, you no doubt know from watching the telly – I’m ending this call.”
Then the voice said something that stopped Vinnie from pressing the red button. Something he hadn’t seen coming. “I know you are Palmer, or ‘Traffic Warden’ as I’m going to call you. I know, as it’s me you’re after.”
Chapter Fourteen
As Vinnie took in who he was apparently talking to, he pointed at the handset and mouthed the word ‘Moxley’ to Delany, who nodded. “How do I know you are not just some weirdo crank?”
“Oh it’s me all right. Did you enjoy finding My Man’s head?”
Vinnie nodded at Delany in an attempt to confirm to him that it was Moxley on the phone. He knew this as the ‘head in the bathroom’ bit hadn’t been given to the press, for obvious reasons; apart from the fact that Christine Jones and all the other reporters would have had a field day, they hadn’t wanted to terrorise the public more than they had to.
“Okay it’s you then, not a crank; but still a weirdo. I got that bit right.”
“I don’t see what you aim to achieve by provoking me. Or is that what they teach you in traffic warden school, create anger so mistakes are made. Well, it won’t work.”
“Okay, let’s start again,” Vinnie said, “you must realise that this is nearly over, it can’t go on forever. The sooner you hand yourself in the easier it’ll be.”
“Teach you to say that as well, did they?”
Vinnie had to admit he sounded hackneyed, so decided to change tack, “Where’s Jimmy? Is he safe? Because probably contrary to what you think, he was no help at all.”
“Oh I know that, I’ve seen some of the dead end addresses you’ve been to; I know Jimmy wouldn’t betray me. Isn’t that right Jimmy?”
A pause, followed by, “Say hello to the inspector Jimmy, sorry I mean Traffic Warden.”
Another pause. Then, “Palmer, it’s me, you’ve got to believe me I’m absolutely fine. That’s the message I’m leaving you.”
Vinnie could tell Jimmy was far from fine. His voice had all the tell-tale signs of duress.
“So, you see Traffic Warden, there is no drama, here. Jimmy is with me because he loves me and there is no use in chasing anyone else. The other two have left town, you might say. So, here’s the deal. You probably think I’m going after that snivelling rat of a screw. Well, I was, but if you just leave me alone to live my life with Jimmy, I’ll leave the screw alone.”
“Look, Moxley, you know I can’t do that,” Vinnie started, but as he paused to work out what to s
ay next, Moxley spoke.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
And the line went dead.
Vinnie filled Delany in with the part of the conversation he couldn’t have heard.
“He’s obviously abducted Jimmy,” Delany said.
“The tone of his voice suggested that,” Vinnie said, adding, “plus, ‘that’s the message I’m leaving you’, can only relate to the bathroom mirror,” Vinnie said.
“You couldn’t make this up,” Delany said. “A maniac on the loose who’s committed one murder, possibly three, with an abducted man to whom he is no doubt going to do God knows what, and an open threat to a further man. I don’t suppose you fancy ringing the chief to update him, do you?”
Put like this, Vinnie nearly grinned, but he suppressed the urge, because he knew it was far from funny.
“And does he really think he can cut a deal with us? He must be truly mad,” Delany said.
“There’s no doubt about that, but no, I don’t think even he expected us to agree to that. Even looking through his twisted view on reality. Don’t forget his last comment,” Vinnie said.
“I won’t; I’ve just got to work out what the hell it means.”
Vinnie suggested the first job was to get a live cell-siting set up on his phone, so if Moxley rang back they might be able to locate him. “I don’t think we need to intercept my phone, just yet, do you?”
“No, let’s start with the cell-siting; it might be all we need.”
Vinnie was relieved. He didn’t really want all his private conversations and texts being accessed, unless necessary. If they got a fix the next time he rang, they could home in on that, assuming he rang again. Vinnie had a feeling that he would as Moxley seemed to be enjoying the chase. “We’ll need an arrest team 24/7, able to react at a moment’s notice,” Vinnie said.
“I’ll get on to the uniform super, get some of his staff into plain clothes for that. We’ve too few detectives to spare,” Delany said.
Rob walked back into the office finishing off yet another text. Vinnie turned to face him, “Girlfriend again?”
“Yes, sorry boss,” Rob replied.
“You’ll have to tell her to leave it out Rob, not while you’re at work. Got it?” Vinnie said.
Rob apologised again and Vinnie waved it away, saying, “Come on we’ve got work to do.”
*
Moxley, pressed the red icon to end his call to the Traffic Warden and turned to face Jimmy. “Don’t look so worried, it’s all going to be okay. And I promise I’ll treat you better than when we were inside. But just for now, I’m going to have to handcuff you to the chain, just while I’m out, and until, well, the full trust is back.”
He could see the wretched fear in Jimmy’s eyes, which he rather liked; it made Jimmy appear more vulnerable and he found that attractive, engaging even.
Shaking off his thoughts, he told Jimmy to make himself comfortable on the floor next to the wire mesh where a chain was integral. He used the handcuffs he’d stolen from the screw’s house to secure his right wrist. They weren’t the type of handcuffs he would have expected to find in a screw’s home, but they were secure enough, with or without the pink fluffy adornment.
His first task was to head on up to Preston where he still knew some people; one owned a scrapyard, which he hoped was still there, it had been run by a family of villains over the years, being handed down to each new generation. So even though he’d been away for ten long years, he was fairly hopeful. He could crush His Man’s car and take a workable scrapper in exchange.
Then he had work to do.
Chapter Fifteen
Bill Johnson put the receiver back in its cradle and reached for the TV remote on the bed to un-mute the volume, when he stopped to consider the call. There was something in the cop’s voice that unnerved him. Rob Hill, Palmer’s sidekick, sounded stressed, certainly hurried. And all that rubbish about it being ‘a contact call’ didn’t fool him. Something had happened; and whatever it was it wouldn’t be good news. There had been nothing but bad over the last few days and Johnson knew it was far from over.
The longer Moxley was on the loose, the more at risk he was. He dreaded the day that nutter had been shipped on to his wing. Having lost his appetite for daytime TV, he turned the set to standby. There was only so much, ‘Is my dad also my sister’s mother’ type of rubbish he could watch before starting to feel depressed. It was either that or some idiot trying to auction some old tat. Truth was, although he knew he was safe here, he was starting to outgrow the space. He also missed Denis the Menace and hoped he wasn’t pining for him. Though, he very much doubted it. As canine-like as Denis could be; he was still a cat. As long as someone fed and stroked him, he’d be just fine.
If only they had got Moxley to Broadmoor, then everything would have been okay. According to one of the doctors who examined Moxley, it was as bad a case as he’d come across. He was surprised no one had picked up on his mental issues before this. It explained a lot to Johnson, well a lot of Moxley’s behaviour anyway, though the doctor had added that personality disorders on the scale of Moxley’s were often masked. He was only surprised that health professionals hadn’t seen the signs.
The one thing that stuck in Johnson’s memory from his chat with the doctor was that, in his view, he doubted whether Moxley would ever be deemed sane again; medication could control and relieve symptoms but, as far as he was concerned, Moxley was beyond repair.
This helped Johnson lighten his mood; no one would believe Moxley anyway. All he had to do was sit tight until the cops caught him and that would be that. He decided to take a shower and order some grub.
*
“Where are we going, boss?” Rob asked as he followed Palmer down the stairs to the nick’s front office.
“We need to have that lengthy debrief with Johnson that we didn’t get chance to have.”
Vinnie filled Rob in with the contents of the phone call from Moxley.
“Crying out loud, he must be off his head,” Rob said.
“Take that as a given.”
“He didn’t really think we would just back off, did he?”
“Not a bit. He’s toying with us; or more precisely, me.”
They travelled in silence as Palmer drove the short distance from the police station to the hotel where Johnson was. He was trying to gather his thoughts and prepare himself to put his line of questioning on a war footing if need be.
Ten minutes later, he was outside room 303 and there was no reply. Maybe he was in the shower, or the restaurant, notwithstanding that he should be using room service. “Use your key card,” Vinnie said to Rob. He did and they entered an empty room. There was no evidence of any dramas, so they headed back downstairs. He wasn’t in the restaurant. He wasn’t in the large foyer, or cybercafé.
“What about the gym?” Rob asked.
“Suppose there’s a first for everything, but let’s speak to reception.”
They were planning to move Johnson anyway in view of the confirmed threat against him, so the need for charades was over. Vinnie took his warrant card out as he approached a young woman on the desk. He introduced himself and asked had she seen Mr ‘Jenkins’ – the name they had given Johnson – today.
“Oh, yes you’ve only missed him by about ten minutes. He left with a friend.”
“Friend, friend?” Vinnie said.
“Well, I assume so; they were both talking as they walked out the main doors.”
“What did the friend look like?” Vinnie asked.
“Didn’t really take much notice, bald I think.”
Vinnie’s pulse quickened, he asked. “Did they appear, comfortable in each other’s company?”
“Pardon?”
“Did Mr Jenkins appear to be going voluntarily, or not?”
“I’m sorry sir, I really couldn’t say.”
Vinnie thanked her and headed for the entrance. Rob was already there looking up and down the street. The view to the left obs
cured by a delivery wagon.
“What do you reckon, boss,” Rob asked.
Vinnie stretched to see past the wagon, before answering, “I reckon I’m about to deck a screw,” he said, as Johnson bumbled towards them past the wagon, with his head stuck in a paper. Vinnie snatched it from him, enjoying the shock on his face.
“Hey, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Johnson said.
“If Moxley gets a hold of you that would seem like a real result, trust me.”
“I only went for a paper,” Johnson said.
Then Vinnie watched the colour drain from Johnson, together with his attitude, when he told him about the phone call. “Who was the bald bloke you left the hotel with?”
“Just a fellow guest, I don’t know, probably a condom seller,” Johnson said, still with some obvious irritation.
“Well, you may need him if Moxley gets his way. Come on, time to pack.”
Rob took Johnson back to his room to collect his things, while Vinnie took care of the bill with the firm’s credit card. He could see the questioning look in the young woman’s face as she was trying work out what had gone on.
Once in the Volvo, Johnson asked from the back seat where they were taking him. Vinnie knew of an undercover operation which had taken place in the city centre. He had technically been the deputy SIO, so was briefed on it, but had not had much to do with it. He did know that logistics had rented a flat on a short term lease through a covert company owned and run by the cops. And now the flat was empty. Apparently, the job had come to a head quicker than expected and some dirty paedophile had been nicked there. Thought he’d been grooming an eleven year old girl, but when he turned up to realise his twisted fantasies, he got a bit of a shock.
The online eleven year old was really a thirty-five year old undercover officer who used to play rugby for Greater Manchester Police. He wasn’t home, of course, but Vinnie knew that five of his nice police colleagues were.
The Badge & the Pen Thrillers Page 6