Dead Guilty

by Helen H. Durrant

  “Call-wise, it’s all we’ve got,” said Rocco. “But don’t forget the money. It’s a large amount — where did he get it from?”

  “Good question,” said Calladine. “I’ll go and ask him.”

  Chapter 35

  “I think I’ve been here long enough, Inspector.” Pennington greeted Calladine with a cold look. “I’ve answered all your questions. You’ve had access to my home and my finances. I’ve been candid, there’s nothing I can add.”

  Calladine sat down opposite Pennington and his solicitor and placed the phone records on the table in front of him. “There are a couple of things I’d like to clear up first,” he said. “The money you used to buy your apartment and lend to Alder to pay the ransom, where did it come from?”

  Pennington’s face was expressionless. “I’ll remind you that the ransom was never paid, so I’ll get that money back. If it had been paid over, I wouldn’t have minded. It is my intention to buy into the Alder factory. That money would have been payment for shares. Once the dust has settled, I’m hopeful the deal will still go through.”

  “Nonetheless, you had it to lend.”

  “Do you know anything about my background, Inspector?”

  “I know you’re a villain from Glasgow, that you’ve been inside for large-scale drug dealing.”

  “I’m talking about my family background.”

  “Is that relevant?”

  “I didn’t simply pluck the name Giles Pennington out of thin air. Giles was a cousin on my mother’s side. They came from Sheffield. The firm where he worked was owned by my mother’s family, and I was a shareholder. Both my parents are dead, as are Giles’s, and I have no siblings. I inherited the lot, plus a large estate belonging to my mother.” He paused. “I suggest you take a little time to check it out and then I expect to be released.”

  Calladine jotted down some notes and handed them to a PC, asking him to hand them to Ruth in the incident room. “These are your mobile phone records.” He indicated the sheets of paper on the desk. “We have interviewed a number of the kids being used to distribute the drugs. Can you explain what their numbers are doing on your phone?”

  “Frankly, no. I do not mix with ‘kids,’ as you put it. There must be some mistake.”

  “Did my client make these calls, Inspector?” Crawford asked.

  “No. They were incoming from persons of interest in this case.”

  “As I’m sure you’re aware, that proves nothing. They phoned him, perhaps by accident, perhaps to set him up. I think Mr Pennington has been here for long enough. If there is nothing else, we’re leaving.”

  He was right. Calladine had nothing. He was still woefully short of the proof he needed to charge Pennington.

  * * *

  Later that day Calladine called the team together for a briefing.

  “We found nothing in Pennington’s apartment. The place doesn’t look as if anyone lives there,” Ruth told the team.

  Rocco spoke up. “His bank records are interesting. I checked on the money.” He gave a whistle. “He wasn’t lying. The guy inherited over two million. Bailing out Alder wasn’t an issue for him. But I still don’t understand why he’d do it.”

  “He’s after a share in the company,” Calladine replied. “Any sign of drugs?” Calladine asked Ruth.

  She shook her head. “The place is clean. He’s clean. He’s either very clever or he has nothing to do with this.”

  Calladine turned to Alice. “How are the Manchester force doing with finding Dodd?”

  “They’ve been to his home, sir. He sometimes lives with an older brother in a flat in Hulme. He hasn’t seen him for a few days. He says this is normal, and that his brother travels around a lot.”

  “Well, he would, he’s the delivery boy, isn’t he,” Rocco scoffed. “Does he have a car?”

  “No. According to his brother, Tyler uses public transport,” Alice replied.

  “Less chance of being traced. Got it all wrapped up, haven’t they?” Rocco shook his head.

  “Are we working on the premise that Dodd is ‘Street?’” Ruth asked.

  “He could be.” Calladine was thoughtful. “But there has to be someone else at the top of this chain. The youngsters deliver to various addresses. A tenner a time, Harvey told us. Tyler Dodd delivers the supply to whichever area he’s told to. It’s whoever is supplying him we have to get our hands on. He’s the man at the top.”

  “We don’t even have anyone in the frame,” Ruth pointed out. “Pennington seemed possible, but not now. We can’t find any evidence against him.”

  Calladine stared at the incident board. It was an array of faces, names, and dates. It all added up to a big fat nothing. Someone had killed Sean Barber and Frankie Halliwell, but who or why was still a mystery.

  “Okay, we’ll call it a day. Thinking caps on, folks. See if you can come up with a new angle to investigate.”

  “Want to come to mine to eat?” Ruth offered as they packed up. “Can’t promise much, but at least you won’t be on your own.”

  Calladine was grateful for the offer, but he wasn’t much in the mood for company. The case was running rings round them and he wanted to collect his thoughts. “I’m alright,” he smiled. “You get off and don’t mind me.”

  Ruth grabbed her coat and left him to it. Heaving a sigh, Calladine sat down at his desk to look through the case file yet again.

  “Calladine.” It was DCI Birch. “I think we should talk,” she said. “I suggest we decamp to the pub across the road. Get some food and down a couple of drinks.”

  This was unusual. Calladine was curious. “Good idea, ma’am. I was only going home to walk the dog anyway.”

  * * *

  “I’ve applied for a transfer,” Birch announced once they were sitting down. “I was considering it anyway, but all this trouble with DCS Chesworth has swung it. The man is heading for a fall and I won’t be dragged down with him.”

  Calladine was shocked. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that. He wasn’t overly fond of Rhona Birch, but she was a known quantity. If she went, they could get anyone as the new DCI.

  “I have already started the process,” she continued. “With Long being laid up, your name has been thrown into the pot as acting DCI. Do a good job, make the application, and it could be permanent.”

  He was surprised. His past was far from unblemished. For starters, he’d been dogged by his association with Ray Fallon for most of his career. Fallon had been one of Manchester’s most notorious gangsters — and Calladine’s cousin. Granted, Fallon was dead now, but there were those who had wondered where his loyalties lay.

  “I’ve always been overlooked before,” he reminded her.

  “Yes, and I know why.” She appeared to read his thoughts. “But Fallon’s not around anymore, and apart from your association with him, you have an excellent record.” She paused and took a slug of her wine. “It would help your cause if you got this case sorted, and the quicker the better. Two murders, and the drug dealing. Throw in apprehending a big-time dealer and I think we can safely say the post is yours. I will of course put in a good word for you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. Very kind.”

  “Not really. I want to finish my stint in Leesworth on a high. It’ll stand me in good stead in my next position.”

  “Dare I ask where and what that is?”

  “No, Calladine. Until I’m sure, it’s strictly my business only.”

  Chapter 36

  After his interesting conversation with Birch, Calladine walked home. He’d had a couple of pints and wouldn’t risk driving. He was more cheerful than he’d been in a while. The idea of being DCI appealed to him, and given the years he’d worked at Leesdon station as a DI, he deserved it. Having arrived home, he was just about to wander round the block with Sam when his mobile rang.

  “Them damn kids keep banging on my door, shouting for our Billy. They’ve been at it for hours. Nothing I say will shift them. I�
�m at my wits end. I can’t get any peace.”

  Alf Alder sounded upset. He was an old man, and Calladine felt he had little choice but to go round, see what was going on. He’d take Sam with him. Kill two birds with one stone.

  The Hobfield was dark and uninviting at night. The tower blocks loomed over the area, tall and poorly lit. Calladine got out of his car and stood in the concrete square staring up at the block of flats. Over the years he’d investigated many crimes committed here. He shuddered and pulled his collar up — the estate was no place to linger.

  Alf was in a state when Calladine arrived at his flat in Heron House. “They won’t listen. Our Billy isn’t here. But still they ring the bell and scream for him. I’m sorry to bother you, but you did give me this.” He waved Calladine’s card in his face.

  “It’s okay, Alf. D’you know who these kids are?”

  “I presume they’re his football lads. He coaches the team off the estate a couple of times a week. One were Laycock’s younger brother, Kane. Right little tearaway he is.”

  “Well, they’ve gone now, Alf. There’s not much I can do.”

  “Will you find them and have a word, Mr Calladine? Tell them to lay off.”

  Calladine frowned. “Laycock, you say? I know Dean. His lot live a few floors up. I’ll go and have a word. I’ll leave Sam with you if that’s okay, pick him up in a bit.”

  Alf looked at Sam. “He’s a funny-looking dog. Is he supposed to be that wrinkly?”

  Calladine laughed. Sam wasn’t the most handsome of dogs. “Yes, Alf, it’s the breed. Sam’s a Shar Pei.”

  Calladine left Sam with Alf and went in search of the younger Laycock boy. Their flat was on the sixth floor. He was met by four young lads chasing up and down the deck.

  “I’m looking for Kane Laycock,” he called to them.

  “You police?”

  “Yes son, so don’t give me any lip.”

  “That’s their flat there,” he pointed. “Dean’s not well. Kane’s had to go back in and see to him.”

  The front door was ajar. Calladine peered into the darkness and called out, “Anyone here?”

  A young lad, no more than twelve, came running to greet him. “It’s our Dean, he’s not right.” Grabbing his arm, the lad pulled Calladine into the flat.

  “Your parents not here?”

  “Me mum hasn’t been home in a while,” the kid admitted. “And me dad’s long gone.”

  Taking a closer look, Calladine could see that the boy’s clothes were dirty and the flat was a pigsty. Dean Laycock lay on an old sofa, unconscious.

  There were several small clear plastic bags lying on a coffee table beside him. It was obvious that he’d overdosed.

  Calladine was on his mobile for an ambulance. Then, “How long’s he been like this?” he asked Kane.

  The lad shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been out with me mates.”

  Calladine knelt down beside Dean. He was barely breathing. “C’mon lad, wake up.” He slapped his cheeks, trying to bring him round. With one ear pressed to Dean’s chest, he could barely hear a heartbeat. There was no time to lose: Calladine started chest compressions.

  “He asked me to find Billy, but he’s not around. He got upset, kept going on about wanting out. Then some mate he knows came round and got angry. He hit our Dean and said he’d be back. Dean told him he wanted to stop, but his mate wouldn’t have it. He gave Dean some of that stuff,” he nodded at the coffee table. “He’s an addict.” He lowered his head. “Dean didn’t want to, but his mate said it would sort everything.”

  Re-checking Dean’s chest, the heartbeat was stronger. Calladine rang the station. He wanted a couple of uniforms to keep an eye on the place. He glanced at the plastic bags on the coffee table beside Dean. If he’d taken that lot, he’d be lucky to survive. He’d get a CSI team round, too.

  “He got off his head because he’s in big trouble,” Kane said. “That mate of his said he’d let the big boss down.”

  “Do you know this boss?”

  “No, but I think he’s called Street.”

  Calladine took hold of the boy by the shoulders. “Has he ever been here, this Street?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “This mate who came tonight, can you describe him? It’s very important. He hurt your brother. We need to find him before he hurts anyone else.”

  The lad looked worried. “I’ll be in trouble if I do. The boss, Street, won’t like it. He isn’t someone you mess with — look at him.” He nodded at Dean.

  “You’re okay, Kane. I’ll make sure you’re safe. Have you any idea where your mother might be?”

  He shook his head. “She goes off for days on end. I haven’t seen her all this week.”

  “Do you have any other family nearby?”

  “Me gran. She lives in the old folk’s bungalows near the green.”

  “Will she let you stay?”

  Kane nodded.

  “Okay. Now don’t worry. I’ll get Dean to hospital and arrange for one of my officers to take you to your gran’s.”

  Calladine had no idea how old his grandmother was, but it was unlikely Kane staying with her would become a permanent arrangement as she was in her seventies and living in one-bedroomed accommodation. If his mother didn’t show up and claim him, Kane Laycock would likely end up in care. But he wouldn’t labour the point yet.

  Seconds later the ambulance arrived. One of the two paramedics was Layla. She gave him a cursory nod.

  “His name is Dean Laycock. He’s overdosed on something,” Calladine said. “He doesn’t look good. His heart is weak and his breathing shallow.”

  The pair started to work on Dean. Calladine moved the coffee table out of the way. He wanted to preserve the evidence. “Does Dean have a mobile?” he asked Kane.

  The lad was staring wide eyed as Layla attached a drip to Dean’s arm. He was shaking, obviously scared.

  “It’s okay,” Calladine said. “They know what they’re doing.”

  “Do we take him in too?” Layla asked.

  “No. I’ll get an officer to take him to his gran’s for the night.” Calladine had spotted a mobile on the carpet by the sofa, probably where Dean had dropped it. “This his?” he asked Kane.

  The lad nodded. “Think so. He has different ones all the time.”

  Calladine bagged it and went to look for the uniforms he’d requested.

  “He’s in a bad way,” Layla whispered to him as they stretchered Dean out of the small flat. “Just as well you found him when you did. I’m no expert, but this doesn’t look like an ordinary overdose to me.”

  Calladine’s head snapped up. “What d’you mean?”

  “Get the residue in those packets checked, but I suspect you’ll find it’s been cut with something else.”

  Calladine turned to Kane, who was now cowering in a corner of the room. “Don’t worry, son. I’ll make sure you’re okay.” He smiled. “This mate who came to see Dean, d’you know what they were arguing about?”

  “Our Dean was supposed to give him something, but he didn’t have it. He said his contact had disappeared. His mate got angry. Said Dean had better sort it or else.”

  Calladine had no way of knowing what this ‘something’ was, but he suspected it was drugs. Dean Laycock’s place was a pick-up point. But who was supplying him?

  * * *

  It was a couple of hours before Calladine picked up Sam from Alf Alder’s. The dog was happily curled up in front of his gas fire.

  Alf was smiling. “He’s good company, and he guards the place well. It’s made me think, way things are around here, might get one of my own.”

  “He needs a lot of walking, Alf. Think carefully before doing anything rash. Those kids have settled now. The Laycock’s had a visitor, left Dean in a bad way. Did you see or hear anything earlier?”

  “No, just them kids shouting for Billy.”

  “D’you know why they wanted him?”

  “Summat to do with the footba
ll team, I expect. I don’t hear so well. It was just so much noise.”

  “Okay, Alf. I’ve left an officer upstairs keeping an eye out. Any more trouble, give him a shout.”

  Chapter 37

  Day 9

  “Dean Laycock is in hospital. He overdosed last night,” Calladine told the team at the briefing the following morning. “Whatever he took had been cut with something toxic. We’ll find out soon enough. Forensics will have analysed it by now. And I have this.” He held up the evidence bag containing the mobile he’d retrieved. “No doubt a disposable. His brother told me he gets through them.”

  “You should have rung me,” Ruth frowned. “I could have helped.”

  “No time, and I didn’t expect it to be more than giving a few kids an earful. I got a call from Alf Alder. The younger kids were tormenting him, so I went round. I had no idea it would turn out like it did. Good job I was there. Dean was close to the edge — another few minutes and who knows?”

  “How did he manage to overdose? I’d have thought that crew were pretty adept at drug taking.”

  “Layla thinks whatever he took was spiked. He had a visitor. Dean didn’t have what he’d come to collect. The overdose, I suspect, was his punishment.”

  “Do we know who the visitor was?” asked Rocco.

  “Kane Laycock told me it was ‘a mate.’” He shook his head. “I missed him by no more than an hour. Kane’s coming in later to give a statement and a description.” Calladine looked across the room at Alice. “Would you arrange for Kane to come in late morning. The details of the PC watching his gran’s house are with the desk sergeant. And we’ll need a child protection officer too. He’s unlikely to have a parent with him and he’s a vulnerable boy.”

  “What had this mate come to collect?” asked Ruth. “Money? More drugs? Was Kane able to tell you?”

  “No. We’ll go and have a word with Dean shortly. If we can get him to talk, so much the better.”

  “No joy on Tyler Dodd,” Rocco said. “The Manchester force reckon he’s gone to ground, but they did email over a photo and profile.”