The Badge & the Pen Thrillers

by Roger A Price

  “Okay, but only if there is a trial. They’ll probably just lock Moxley up in Broadmoor where he belongs. In which case …”

  “In which case, fair enough,” Vinnie said, as he watched her smile return.

  He pulled out his new phone and dialled Harry’s mobile from memory waited for him to answer.

  “Hi Harry, it’s Vinnie here, I’ve something to tell you, but you’re not going to like it.”

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  “Go on,” Harry said, in a resigned tone.

  So Vinnie did, leaving out everything to do with Christine Jones, for now anyway. He could imagine Harry’s head turning red enough without adding to it unnecessarily. Harry didn’t interrupt but let Vinnie tell his tale. When he’d finished there was a long pause before he spoke and in a far quieter voice than Vinnie would have expected.

  “You do realise that you are supposed to be suspended, and you’ve no powers up there?”

  “I know, Harry, but I had to do something, and as the firm had cast me off, I’m a private …”

  “Spare me the obvious …” Harry interrupted, before Vinnie cut back in.

  “…and I saved Piper’s life,” he lied. He felt a twang of guilt at stealing Christine’s heroism, but he had no choice. Harry paused again.

  “Okay, I’ll ease up, Vinnie. Give me the Scottish SIO’s details and I’ll liaise direct. I’ll send an escort to collect Dawson from the Scots and fetch him down here. And I’ll tell them to arrest him if he refuses to comply, but I want you to stay away from it all.”

  “No probs,” Vinnie said.

  “And why are you ringing on a new number?” Harry added.

  Vinnie didn’t want his boss to know he’d realised his other phone was hooked up to an intercept. So he didn’t answer. He also realised that his new SIM card would need exchanging now, too, but he pushed on with a question of his own, one that had been troubling him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Harry, but how did Moxley get hold of Piper’s address?” He refrained from adding; “Only you and I knew of it.”

  “I’ve been wondering that myself. Who have you told, Vinnie?”

  The insinuation angered Vinnie, but he held himself in check before answering, “Do you need to ask that, Harry?”

  “Okay, sorry, Vinnie, but I’ve told no one either. I inputted the info on to my SIO’s sensitive material log which, as you know, only you and I have the password to. In fact, technically I should block you as an authorised user while you are suspended. Not that you have access to a terminal anyway.”

  It was a mystery, and one they weren’t going to solve right now. Harry asked if he was staying on this number and he lied saying his other phone – his work one – had a flat battery and he’d only borrowed this one from Piper. He didn’t know whether he believed him, but it might buy Vinnie some time. Harry said he would ring the Scots straight away and he’d let Vinnie know when they had Dawson, so there would be no need for him to go to Gretna. Vinnie agreed and said his goodbyes.

  “That sounded, as if it went okay,” said Christine.

  Vinnie agreed, and filled in the blanks.

  “I particularly like the bit about how you saved Piper,” she said, raising one eyebrow; and stopped him as he started to explain. She obviously knew the score.

  “So, we are heading home now are we?”

  “Are you kidding? Get Gretna into that sat-nav, will you.”

  *

  Moxley drove through the quiet village of Gretna, made famous by its ability to marry couples at sixteen without their parents’ consent. He knew it was visited for its romantic history and setting nowadays rather than actually being used by elopers. He was following the sat-nav in the cab and it was obvious the address he was making for was out of town somewhere. Even better. He was enjoying being a taxi driver, it made the journey more interesting. Not that he’d expect the taxi driver to agree. As soon as they had reached a quiet stretch of road he’d asked the driver to stop so he could take a leak, which he did – just before he pulled him from the vehicle and killed him. He’d never choked someone out before and was surprised at how quick and relatively easy it was. He hadn’t had time to hide the body so dragged it over a hedge. A couple of cows had wandered over to take a look and it would probably keep them interested for a while. At least the tedious idiot wouldn’t be able to bore the poor animals with his anecdotes and one-liners.

  The sat-nav announced that he was at his destination and Moxley saw a small white-fronted cottage up ahead, set aside on its own. The nearest neighbours looked to be some distance away on the village side and he could only see fields beyond it. He would drive past once to get a look and confirm the number on the front door. He was conscious that Dawson was an ex-cop, but it would simply look like a cab seeking an address, perfect cover.

  He’d often wondered how great he would have been as a cop, certainly better than most he’d ever come across. Scratch that, better than any. If his life had taken a different course, then who knows? But his first conviction for grievous bodily harm as a teenager had prevented any lofty ambitions. Not that he had any regrets, but he did enjoy outwitting the likes of the Traffic Warden, just because he could. Even at Scum’s flat in Govan, he’d committed a schoolboy error.

  Moxley slowed his approach as he passed the cottage on his right-hand side. Daylight was waning but there was still plenty enough to see with. He clocked the number on the door, it was the right address. He felt his pulse quicken at the prospect of the fun that lay ahead. He couldn’t wait to see Dawson’s face. He wondered if he’d changed much in ten years.

  Moxley eventually found a space where the lane was wide enough to do a three-sixty degree turn and he cruised back towards the cottage. After he rounded a bend he had a clear view for several hundred metres and saw another car approach. He pulled over immediately as he watched the brown mid-sized saloon pull up outside the cottage. Damn. It was obvious the two occupants weren’t concerned with his presence, probably hadn’t even seen him. The two suited men walked straight down the cottage’s path with purpose in their step. More traffic wardens. He had hoped he would have been here before anyone else. He’d no doubt got that Scottish pig bitch to thank for this. If only he’d left the cab driver until they’d actually got here, he’d have probably been on his way now with Dawson as his terrified passenger. Instead, he had to sit and wait until ten minutes later when the cottage door opened and the two wardens left with Dawson in tow.

  He couldn’t see too clearly at this distance, but he recognised the man’s rounded shoulders, a stoop which would only get worse with age. He’d never given Dawson a name and he wasn’t sure why. But now he’d actually seen him again he would call him Quasi.

  He watched as they put Quasi into the rear of the two-door car before using the cottage’s driveway to turn around. They set off back the way they had come, and Moxley could do nothing but watch them drive away.

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Light was fading fast as Vinnie drove through the picturesque town of Gretna. His sat-nav indicated they were near their destination, but it was obviously on the outskirts. Held at a red light, he noticed a brown mid-sized car also held on the opposite side of the junction. Each of them was in their respective pole positions. What struck Vinnie was that the two male front seat occupants were wearing suits, which looked slightly out of place. Something else, too. The way each had an elbow rested on their respective doors, a slight slouch – impatient? Bored? They were detectives.

  Vinnie never really understood why, but he could always recognise a detective in a suit. He reckoned they all could. They looked different from a banker or an office worker, even a uniform cop working temporarily in plain clothes looked different. He knew street-wise villains had the same skill. The number of times he’d driven on to an estate with the window open, only to hear some lookout shout, “Five-0.”

  The lights went through the sequence to green and both vehicles set off. Vinnie tried to use his peripheral vision,
so as not to be noticed himself. As the cars passed each other, his suspicions were confirmed; he recognised Bob Dawson sitting in their rear seat. He slowed and waited until he could no longer see the detectives in his rear mirror before doing a U-turn in the road – didn’t want to do it in their mirrors.

  “What is it?” asked Christine.

  “Dawson,” Vinnie answered, and swore at the traffic lights which had turned back to red. He explained as they waited.

  “What are we going to do now? Now we know the cops have safely got Dawson, is there any point following him?”

  Vinnie didn’t answer straight away. It had been a reflex reaction to go after them but Christine was right. So they got here in time to get Dawson, but what of Moxley? He did another U-turn and continued following the sat-nav as he explained. “You’re right. They’ve got him now, but Moxley won’t know that.”

  “Won’t they have left someone behind?” she asked.

  Vinnie knew that he would have done, but a lot depended on how busy the locals were. Getting hold of Dawson would have been a priority but, beyond that, they probably were unwilling, or unable, to leave staff on a stake-out. The trouble with those jobs, Vinnie knew, was that apart from being labour intensive, once you’ve commissioned such action, when did you stop it? He explained this to Christine as they drove past the house. There were no lights on and no cars parked up anywhere nearby. He pulled over outside and asked her to stay in the car while he knocked on the door. He received no reply so peered through the front window. He could see all the way through the cottage; no sign of anyone.

  He climbed back in the car and said, “They’ve left no one inside either. Probably marked it up on the local plod’s patrol plan to do regular drive pasts and be on the lookout for any signs of Moxley.”

  Christine nodded. They decided to give it thirty or forty minutes, to see if Moxley turned up. Vinnie wasn’t convinced he would. After all, he would know that the cops would have been all over it, so too much risk. Plus they were in the middle of nowhere and as far as they knew Moxley had no wheels.

  An hour passed as they chatted effortlessly. He could tell that Christine was far more relaxed in his company now. She was even slagging off her ex-boyfriends to him, when his new – Harry-phone - rang and broke the moment. He answered it knowing it could only be one person. “Hi, Harry.”

  “Couple of things; firstly, the local CID have safely got Dawson and will be handing him over to a couple of our boys shortly. They should be RV-ing with them as we speak.”

  “Did he come willingly?” Vinnie asked.

  “Only when they threatened to arrest him and told him they didn’t give a damn about who he used to be,” Harry said.

  Vinnie smiled at the thought of Dawson’s arrogance being put down by the local detectives, and then asked, “What’s the second thing?”

  “When were you going to tell me you have that reporter Christine Jones with you?”

  Vinnie didn’t answer straight away. He glanced at Christine in shock first and noted her reaction before he said, “Ah, I was going to – anyway, how do you know?”

  Harry told of a call he’d received from Christine’s boss, worried as she’d not heard from her. Vinnie would have expected Harry to be apoplectic by now, but he wasn’t. Vinnie explained how he felt he had to do something and needed someone to help, to be a public facing image for him while he kept a low profile; though things hadn’t quite panned out like that. Harry listened without interruptions. When Vinnie had finished, there was a pause before he answered.

  “You are one lucky sod, Vinnie Palmer,” said Harry. Apparently, Christine’s editor had said she knew Christine was working a story as a ‘fly-on-the-wall’ with Vinnie, and that she was amazed that the police were giving them such unprecedented access to a live operation. She was also a little surprised that she had not been approached first. She had glossed over this by thanking Harry nonetheless and said she would give them full editorial access before she broadcast anything in an effort to show due gratitude and further cement their new working relationship.

  On hearing this, Harry had bought himself some time saying he would have to call her back shortly and then rang the on-call ACPO – which meant the chief constable or one of his senior management team – which turned out to be the deputy chief.

  Vinnie winced inwardly at the thought of the deputy being involved, not a woman to be crossed lightly. Harry said the only way the deputy could see of turning this into a positive was to go along with Harry’s suggestion that Vinnie’s approach to Christine Jones had been fully authorised from the top. Granted, that the editorial discretion the news channel were giving them before broadcast meant this could turn into a massive publicity coup for the cops. As far as the deputy knew, no other force had allowed such access to an ongoing murder investigation.

  At this point, Christine’s phone went off and she looked at the screen before taking the call. She quickly got out of the car.

  “She with you now?” Harry asked.

  Vinnie confirmed that she was but it was safe to carry on as she couldn’t hear Harry and had left the car to take her own call.

  “There’s just one problem, Harry.”

  “What?”

  “I’m suspended.”

  “As I said, you are one lucky sod. As of now you are not suspended and, for the record, you never have been. There is no other way to make this work. But you’ll have to go along with never having been suspended in the first place.”

  Vinnie couldn’t believe what he was hearing, Harry was an absolute star.

  “Of course Harry, not a problem, and can I say how grateful I am, and what a brilliant idea.”

  “That’s as maybe, but don’t get over excited. You’ll still have to face the enquiry into your reckless discharge of a firearm, and the deputy wants me to pass on a private message to you.”

  “Sure, Harry, what?”

  “She didn’t like being forced into a corner, as especially as she’s the one who will have to brief the chief, so irrespective of how good this might all pan out, she doesn’t expect to receive a promotion board application from you until she tells you differently.”

  Vinnie wasn’t surprised by this, and wasn’t too bothered. He had no immediate plans to go for the next rank; he was enjoying being a DI.

  “And of course the story can’t go anywhere until after Moxley’s caught and the way things are going, only you will know when that will be.”

  Slightly confused by Harry’s last remark, Vinnie asked what he’d meant.

  “The Dep said that now you are on duty again she expects you to catch Moxley without further ado, cock-ups or, God forbid, any more bodies.”

  Vinnie thanked Harry again. As he ended the call Christine got back into the car. They swapped stories, she going first. Her call had been from her editor asking for an update and saying that in the absence of an outside broadcast unit working with Christine they would have to recreate all the scenes using actors and turn it into an hour long documentary. She was clearly excited.

  After Vinnie had briefed her on his news and good fortune, she asked. “So where now?”

  “I’ve absolutely no idea. We may as well head back south.”

  It was at that moment that Vinnie’s work phone rang. Probably Harry, using his normal phone. At least that meant the phone tap had been turned off and he could use it again. Much easier as it had all his stored numbers in its memory. He pressed the green icon to accept.

  “You are probably feeling very pleased with yourself, Traffic Warden,” The caller said.

  Vinnie was shocked to hear Moxley’s voice and put his finger to his lips to warn Christine to be quiet. He suddenly felt terribly insecure. He glanced around, half expecting to see Moxley standing watching them. He stifled his surprise before answering. “Your luck is running out, pal, it’s only a matter of time,” said Vinnie, as calmly as he could.

  “I’m not done with you yet, nor that Scottish bitch that hit me. You may h
ave cost me my fun with Scum and Quasi, but you two would make a good replacement,” Moxley said, before he ended the call.

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  For the next hour and a half Christine drove the Volvo while Vinnie worked the phone. Neither of them knew why Moxley had rung or what was really going through his twisted mind, but it wouldn’t be good. Vinnie first phoned Harry, and after he’d briefed him, Harry said it would take some time to establish which number Moxley was now using but he’d have people working through the evening and night. After that a live cell-siting wouldn’t take too long and a full intercept not too much longer due to the threat to life that still existed. Harry had also said they could put the line back on Vinnie’s phone if there was going to be any significant delay in getting a line hooked on to Moxley’s phone, but he’d warn him if that was the case. Vinnie noticed that Harry had said “back on your phone” when referring to a full interception – an unintended slip – but he let it pass, no time for sensitivities now.

  Harry said he’d also speak to Doctor Greymore with an update, to see if she could help in some way. There was also something unsaid in Harry’s voice, especially as he asked Vinnie to let him know when he was an hour away and that he wanted him to come straight to the incident room at Rochdale. Vinnie guessed Harry was putting together armed response of some kind, probably wanted Vinnie to act as bait. He had no problem with that, and it wasn’t a conversation to have over the phone.

  He finished his last call and looked up to notice the motorway sign announcing the one mile advance warning of services at Forton. He’d been so engrossed in his calls that he hadn’t realised they were back in north Lancashire already. “Fancy a brew?”

  “Just what I was thinking. Well, a wee and then a brew,” Christine answered.

  Thirty minutes later, refreshed, Vinnie and Christine were leaving the cafeteria when Christine said she would pay another visit before the final leg of the journey. Vinnie said he would wait outside.