The DI Tremayne Thriller Box Set

by Phillip Strang

  ‘I’m not suggesting any negligence, but the twins had struck lucky, they’ve got the gold, the hiding place, yet they argue over what to do next.’

  ‘They weren’t planners, more spur of the moment.’

  ‘Who told them to place the gold in that hole?’ Was it Tony Mitchell? He had a good map, Ethan only had a sketch.’

  ‘Maybe Cosford had something on Tony. We’ve only Cosford’s statement that Tony had been out to his place, and there’s no knowledge of Cosford visiting Tony.’

  ‘The publican at the Plough Inn seems to know most of what’s going on.’

  ‘Vince Harding, the driver, couldn’t stop giving you the eye. We’ll talk to him first’ Tremayne said.

  ***

  Vince Harding was entertaining when Tremayne and Clare knocked on his door. Inside the house, the sound of a woman squealing, the voice of a man in hot pursuit.

  ‘Not the best time,’ Clare said.

  ‘He’ll be angry when we break up his night of romance,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘It doesn’t sound much like romance to me,’ Clare said. She was more of a candlelit dinner person. The curtains were not closed fully, and she had seen two overweight people running around half-naked, the woman still with a bra on, feigning modesty, and Harding down to his Y-fronts. To her, it was carnal lust, not romance.

  ‘Harding, it’s Tremayne and Yarwood.’ Tremayne banged on the window with his fist, a mischievous smile on his face. Clare thought him cruel.

  ‘Go away. I’m busy,’ Harding shouted back.

  ‘Murder waits for no man. It’s either you open this door, or we’ll break it down.’

  ‘With what?’ Clare said.

  ‘I want him angry, livid would be better.’

  The woman inside could be seen putting on her clothes and picking up her handbag. Vince Harding pulled on his trousers, wrestled with his tee shirt and opened the door.

  ‘What right have you to disturb me? I’ve broken no law.’

  ‘Waking the neighbours could be an offence.’

  ‘Around here? Are you joking? Her, two doors down, she’s screaming all night, and up the road, a couple of druggies who sing all night, and then screw all day.’

  ‘We know you were in on the gold heist,’ Tremayne said.

  Clare knew Tremayne was trying to break the man’s story. The woman that Harding had been entertaining with his manly ardour brushed past the three standing at the front door. ‘See you later,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry about tonight,’ Harding said.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll add it to your account.’

  ‘Local girl?’ Tremayne said.

  ‘Hardly a girl, but she’s the best I can afford.’ Clare thought the man disgusting.

  ‘Harding, you and Aidan Farrell were in on the heist. We know that now. What do you have to say?’

  ‘It destroyed my life, you know that.’

  ‘It didn’t. You destroyed it yourself with your negative attitude, your slovenly appearance,’ Clare said.

  ‘Tremayne, we’ve been through this how many times? It was eighteen years ago. It was late at night, and we were looking for Aidan’s girlfriend. How were we to know that Martin and Ethan Mitchell were going to come up behind us?’

  ‘How did you know their names?’ Clare said.

  ‘We gave evidence at the trial of one of them. Do you think we were meeting up with them, devising a plan?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘And why would we? We had a good number with the company. Each week we’d take something here, something there. On a few occasions, we brought back a vehicle from the continent.’

  ‘Where on the continent?’

  ‘This is all on record. Nothing was found to be illegal, and Tremayne knows this. I’ve a good mind to write to my Member of Parliament, or maybe there’s an ombudsman that deals with police brutality.’

  ‘I’ll give you the phone numbers before we leave,’ Tremayne said. ‘It doesn’t alter the fact that something was overlooked in the original investigation. Something that Yarwood and I intend to rectify. Vince, it’s eighteen years, long enough for the gold heist to be a distant memory to most people. And Martin and Ethan Mitchell are both dead, as are their brother and their uncle. No one’s going to pin you down, sentence you to time in prison.’

  ‘Rubbish, and you know it. You would arrest me within five minutes if I gave you anything.’

  ‘Do you have something? It would be best to talk,’ Clare said.

  ‘I wasn’t driving, Aidan was.’

  ‘Are you saying he was in on the heist?’

  ‘I’m not saying anything. I’m just trying to get you out of my house.’

  ‘I’m trying to help you,’ Tremayne said.

  Clare could see Harding wavering. He had to be involved somehow.

  ‘Now, we know that Ethan Mitchell could keep a secret, so could his wife and his uncle. How about you? Have you kept it secret as to how you stopped at a pre-arranged spot and let the Mitchells cosh your offsider, truss you both up and drive off?’ Tremayne said.

  ‘It wasn’t like that. Aidan was keen for this woman. Back then, you had to get out a map and look for the address. You must remember it, Tremayne.’

  ‘I do. That doesn’t explain why two men with a good track record would risk it all for a couple of women.’

  ‘How old are you, Tremayne? Two young men, full of energy. What was more important? A piece of tail or following company procedures?’

  ‘Where’s Aidan Farrell?’

  ‘I’ve not seen him for a few years, probably thirteen or fourteen.’

  ‘Any idea where he is now?’

  ‘The last I heard, he was back in Ireland. Married, by all accounts.’

  ‘The girl he was meeting that night?’

  ‘It may be her, but I wasn’t invited to the wedding, wouldn’t have gone anyway.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘After the trial, and with us unemployed, we went our separate ways. Apart from the job at the security company, we didn’t have a lot in common.’

  ‘Vince, I’m going to arrest you, take you back to Salisbury. You’ve fed us nonsense. You know something, and we need it.’

  ‘On what charge?’

  ‘Perverting the course of justice.’

  Clare realised that Tremayne could not arrest the man for not telling him what he wanted to hear. She hoped her senior knew what he was doing.

  ‘Aidan received this phone call. It was his girlfriend. She was telling him where to stop, and she’d come out and meet us, bring her friend as well.’

  ‘Why didn’t this come out at the trial?’

  ‘We were in enough trouble as it was. We kept quiet, hoped we could keep our jobs, but you and your colleagues had done your job well. We weren’t found to be involved, but the mud stuck.’

  ‘Mud now proved,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘It’s the truth. If we hadn’t had our tongues hanging out, we wouldn’t have stopped.’

  ‘Are you saying that you’re innocent of the crime, even Aidan Farrell?’

  ‘Guilty of stupidity, that’s all.’

  ‘Guilty of withholding information at a trial for murder. That’s a criminal offence.’

  ‘There must be a statute of limitations.’

  ‘It doesn’t apply, but I’ll not arrest you. Where can we find Aidan? Where can we find this girlfriend?’

  ‘Aidan’s in Ireland. I’ll give you his phone number. You can trace it to an address.’

  ‘The girlfriend?’

  ‘I never met her.’

  ‘Don’t phone Aidan Farrell.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Vince Harding said.

  Chapter 20

  Betty Galton was preparing to travel to Gerry’s trial. She did not expect two police officers on her doorstep.

  ‘Tony Mitchell knew where the gold was,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘Not from me, he didn’t.’

  ‘We believe he knew even before you.’

>   ‘How? Why?’

  ‘We hoped you could tell us.’

  ‘The man kept his cards close to his chest. We never even knew about him and Selwyn Cosford,’ Betty said.

  ‘When did you find out?’

  ‘I saw them talking to each other in Salisbury. Tony told me some of the story. How do you know?’

  ‘Cosford told us. We believe that Tony was keeping the gold for someone, but we’re short on ideas. Maybe you could fill us in.’

  ‘Not now. I’ve got Gerry to consider.’

  ‘Do you know something?’

  ‘No. Ethan gave me what I gave you. If Tony was involved, can’t you leave it alone?’

  Tremayne gave his character statement in defence of Gerry Mitchell later that day. It was to be a short trial. Tremayne knew the judge to be a stickler for stiff sentences. The prosecution was excellent; the defence, by and large, incompetent.

  There had been a plea in the summing up by the defence, a small ineffectual man with a whining voice, of how the man on trial had suffered the ignominy of his father being found guilty of murder and spending seventeen years in prison, only to be killed soon after his release. The usual broken home routine did not work, as the prosecution showed that Betty, his mother, had married a man of good repute, and the family home had been stable and loving through the accused’s formative years. In the end, a three-year sentence, out in less for good behaviour.

  Tremayne had to agree with the judge, the accused’s mother did not.

  ‘He’s just a child,’ Betty said outside the courtroom.

  ‘We’ll appeal,’ the defence lawyer said.

  ‘Don’t bother, Betty,’ Tremayne said. ‘He’ll be out soon enough with good behaviour. There’s no point in wasting your time. You’ve still got Bob and Marcia.’

  ‘Somehow it doesn’t seem enough.’

  Tremayne took Betty by the arm and marched her next door to a pub. A stiff brandy would not go amiss.

  After Betty had revived, Tremayne said, ‘Gerry will be fine. But we’ve got to find Ethan’s murderer. Tony’s involved, I know it.’

  ‘Instinct?’

  ‘Too many years in the police force. Nothing is a simple as it looks until we solve it, and then it’s only too obvious. Martin and Ethan weren’t smart enough for the job, but Tony was.’

  ‘He never committed a criminal act in his life.’

  ‘Selwyn Cosford’s a suspect. Could he and Tony be working together?’

  ‘Tony was a loner, never trusted anyone, not even Selwyn. Tony told me once that he didn’t like the man very much.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘I can’t remember, but it was a long time ago.’

  ***

  Tremayne and Clare spent more time waiting for the plane at Southampton airport than they did in the air. The weather in Southampton had been blustery. On arrival in Dublin, it was raining, almost sleeting.

  ‘My first time here,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘I’ve been once before,’ Clare said.

  Tremayne did not hear her answer. He was focussed on a man in the crowd outside the terminal. ‘Tremayne, you’re getting old,’ the man said.

  ‘You’re not looking so good yourself,’ Tremayne said. ‘This is Sergeant Yarwood.’

  ‘Inspector Murphy. Call me Paddy, everyone else does.’

  Clare shook the man’s hand. He had a strong Irish accent and a firm voice. He was older than Tremayne, not showing it as much as her senior.

  ‘We’ve worked together a few times in the past,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘It’s my countrymen. They want to get over to England and cause trouble. It’s on account of your warm weather.’

  ‘Compared to here, it probably is,’ Clare said.

  ‘Anyway, we’ve found Aidan Farrell for you. We’ve nothing against him, so don’t go in there with the heavy boots. The man’s made something of himself, somewhat of a celebrity.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘He set up a transport company here in Ireland. He’s often on the television.’

  ‘Why did we have so much trouble finding him?’

  ‘Aidan Farrell changed his name to Garrity, his mother’s maiden name.’

  ‘Any reason why?’

  ‘You’d better ask him. I’ve told him you’re here and why. I can’t say he was too pleased, but he’s agreed. We’re off to his office. It’s not far from here, about twenty minutes.’

  The last time Tremayne had seen Aidan Farrell, it had been at Ethan Mitchell’s trial. Back then, he had had long hair with a Mexican bandit moustache. Now, before the three police officers stood a well-dressed man in a suit. His attempt at Pancho Villa was no longer present; his long hair had been cut short, with greying at the temples.

  ‘Detective Inspector Tremayne, I don’t wish to be reminded of what happened that night.’

  Outside the office, a fleet of trucks.

  ‘You’ve done well,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘I’ve worked hard, so has my wife.’

  ‘What caused you to change. Eighteen years ago you were a cocky individual, full of yourself.’

  ‘People change, you’ve changed.’

  ‘Not for the better,’ Tremayne said. ‘Whereas you have, for the better.’

  ‘Good living, a good wife, a good family.’

  ‘You’re married?’

  ‘Let’s not beat around the bush, Tremayne. You know all about me. Inspector Murphy has obviously given you a profile of me and my life.’

  ‘Ethan Mitchell’s been murdered,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘I read about it,’ Farrell said.

  ‘We need to go over the heist. We know that you and Harding stopped the van that night after a phone call from your girlfriend.’

  ‘She wasn’t my girlfriend, just a casual acquaintance.’

  ‘You were sleeping with her?’

  ‘If she was available.’

  ‘Why did you arrange to meet her that night? Why not another night?’

  ‘She phoned, I responded. A man has got to take every opportunity he can.’

  ‘Even if he’s carrying gold bullion?’

  ‘Even. Do you know how many times a security van gets hijacked in England?’

  ‘Not the exact figure, but single digits.’

  ‘That’s about it. If we were on a long-distance trip, Harding and me, we’d sometimes take a detour, try to break up the monotony. Okay, not strictly according to the book, but nothing ever went wrong. She phones me up, tells me she’s at home, not far away, and she’s got a friend for Harding. He’s not in a good mood, just found his wife with another man. He’s up for it, so am I. It’s only an hour, maybe less, and then we’d be on our way.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘We’re travelling out from Andover. She gives me directions and to pull in at a layby, which I did. And then, there’s a mallet coming through my window, a gun pointing at me. Fifteen minutes later, after I had been coshed, I wake up in a ditch with Harding, minus my uniform.’

  ‘The woman?’

  ‘I never saw her again. After a few years scratching around in England, I came back to Ireland.’

  ‘But you’ve seen Vince Harding a few times since.’

  ‘If I was in his area, I’d give him a call. But then, he became a slob, and as you can see, I wised up.’

  ‘Your wife, does she know the story?’

  ‘Some of it. She’s a local. We met in Dublin fifteen years back. Two children now, and I prefer my past to stay where it belongs.’

  ‘How do we find the woman you were going to meet?’

  ‘After eighteen years?’

  ‘Yes. We consider her suspect.’

  ‘I did at the time, but the police were all for implicating Harding and me. I read that you had found twenty bars. A lot of money. It would come in handy.’

  ‘Do you need it?’ Clare said.

  ‘I’m aiming to expand into England, and the opposition will attempt to undercut me, the same as they did here. The extra cas
h would come in handy.’

  ‘How did you manage the competition here?’

  ‘Hard work.’

  ‘Why Garrity?’ Clare said.

  ‘There’s a competitor, Farrell and Sons. I thought it better to use my mother’s maiden name.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Paddy Murphy said.

  It was late afternoon by the time the conversation with Farrell had concluded. Tremayne and Clare booked into their hotel. Murphy and Tremayne had some catching up to do and a few pints of Guinness to down.

  ‘What did you reckon?’ Clare said when she joined the men later. She could see that Tremayne was not keeping to his couple of pints. Both men were almost at the standing up and singing stage of inebriation. Clare knew she was not and would never be.

  ‘Farrell, he’s straight,’ Murphy said.

  ‘I’m inclined to agree,’ Tremayne said. His words were starting to slur. ‘We knew about the girlfriend, could never find her.’

  ‘We have a name, Eileen Bleakes,’ Clare said.

  ‘Did you try to find her?’ Paddy said.

  ‘We weren’t complete amateurs,’ Tremayne said. ‘Of course we tried, but she’d gone. Not so difficult to disappear then. If she had travelled to the continent, no passport needed, she could have grabbed a flight and gone anywhere.’

  ‘There are databases at the airlines,’ Clare said.

  ‘And some people will get you a forged passport for two thousand pounds, three if you want top notch.’

  ‘We need to find her.’

  ‘Easier said than done,’ Tremayne said. ‘She wasn’t the mastermind, we know that.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Her next-door neighbour to where she had been renting told us that she was a friendly woman, but disorganised. Inside the place, which she had left in a hurry, no incriminating evidence.’

  Clare wanted to discuss the case. The two men wanted to drink and reminisce, the pastime of two men approaching retirement, unable to comprehend a life without a badge. Clare left and went to her room. She turned on her laptop. An email from the doctor, confirming that the date was still on. She replied in the affirmative. She then entered Garrity Trucking Company into the search engine. Apart from an impressive website, there was not much to be gained. It was as Paddy Murphy had said, as Aidan Farrell had confirmed. She expanded the image of Farrell’s wife on the website and studied it: age, height, hair colour, distinguishing features. There were none that easily identified her as Eileen Bleakes. The woman’s neighbour had given a detailed description of her, as had Aidan Farrell. His had been the least well regarded, as he had been a suspect at the time.