Cyril held up a plastic bag containing two bottles and some new syringes. The bottles were without labels but the contents would be analysed. Forensics had also retrieved dog hairs from items of clothing. There was nothing else of interest; in fact, the only personal items were three photographs. One depicted a wedding couple and judging by the age of the photograph and the clothes worn, it could be assumed that it was Negrescu’s parents. The second was of Stella and the baby. Strangely, the third was of a dog.
***
The sky was grey and a slight drizzle greeted Cyril as he left the Police Headquarters. He put up a small umbrella, waved at the security officer on the gate and wandered down Otley Road. His thoughts tumbled uneasily as he catalogued aspects of his day’s work, reliving conversations and observations, weighing the information and running it through his mind. The repetitive noise of the tyres on the wet road made him switch off from his musings. He stopped to look at the progress being made at the restaurant. Things were busy. He was just about to carry on when he heard a shout.
“I see you most days either morning or evening heading past and I wanted to give you this.” Angel handed Cyril an envelope. “It’s an invitation to the opening night. You seemed interested when you called in and I hope you will do us the honour of attending. Please also bring a guest. There will, I feel sure, be a few problems, tooth problems you say?”
“Teething problems,” Cyril corrected politely. “They are only to be expected. That is very kind. I should like that. Thank you. And your name is?” Cyril held out his hand.
“Teething problems, yes but let’s hope not too many.” Angel smiled and took Cyril’s hand with a firm grip. “My name is Angel, and you?”
“Cyril, Cyril Bennett.”
“Tell me Mr Bennett, do you work up there?”
Angel pointed up the road. He had assumed that Cyril worked in some capacity at the Police Headquarters.
“Yes, I’m a police officer for my sins. That’s what makes me nosey.” Cyril smiled.
The answer did not surprise Angel, if anything it excited him. Now his enemy was going to be closer still. “Please come. There is a number on the card so you can let us know if you’ll be attending. We must know how many to cater for and stop any…teething problems.” Angel smiled.
“Thank you, it’s very considerate of you. You mentioned that your father was training the chefs. Is all going well?”
“My father arrives tomorrow. I’ll introduce you at the opening.”
Cyril turned, gave a brief wave before continuing his walk to Robert Street. He smiled inwardly thinking that the new apprenticeships would be pretty whirlwind. Maybe you didn’t need many skills for Chinese, Romanian or Italian recipes.
The house seemed cold when he arrived home. He switched on some music, opened a bottle of Genesis beer followed by the envelope. Cyril checked the calendar and picked up the phone. The beer was wonderful; he had discovered it at a beer festival held at Harrogate Town Football Club; it had become a firm favourite. He settled down and admired the painting in front of him.
“Julie, it’s Cyril. How are you?” Her reply suggested that it had obviously been a bad day.
“Cyril, some news on your dead girl. Stella had been consuming contaminated cocaine for some time looking at her liver results. She was in a very bad way. Usual STDs too, Cyril, so your driver’s idea that she was clean was a myth. Suffered from an enlarged heart bringing about heart failure. This is quite common amongst alcoholics as I’m sure you’re aware.” She paused awaiting Cyril’s protestations, which came on cue. “It’s also a symptom of serious drug misuse. She probably suffered from arrhythmia too. For her age Cyril, she wasn’t pretty.”
“The thought of all that’s just given me an appetite for my evening meal. Smashing! I’ve just put my beer down and to think I only rang to ask you out for dinner at the opening evening of the new restaurant I mentioned a while back.”
“Sounds lovely, when?”
“Week tomorrow. I’ll get a taxi and collect you at…” Cyril looked at the invitation. “Is seven alright?”
“Looking forward to that and no corpse talk, promise? By the way, nearly forgot, there was evidence of a tattoo beneath Snoopy. Script lettering spelling ‘Jean’ or ‘Joan’. I’ll add it to the report.”
Chapter Seventeen
There were eight officers in the briefing room when Cyril stepped through the door, his electronic cigarette in one hand and a bone china cup and saucer in the other. It looked out of place amongst the water bottles and mugs that had been left on the table by his colleagues.
“One day you will all see the light and realise tea and china are totally compatible.” He smiled, inhaled the vapour and relaxed into his chair.
Owen started the briefing. “We’ve not got all the details back but a couple of the students who were in the same halls of residence as Peter Anton tell the tale that he was a keen gambler even then. Thought he had it worked out mathematically, and even though he was working in his spare time, he had debts.”
“Doesn’t every student?” Cyril responded whilst sipping his tea.
“One guy, a Carl Jones, told the officer that he was threatened by some guys regarding a fairly large amount of money that he owed. When questioned he seemed to remember that they were of Asian origin. This might be the reason he worked predominantly in the Chinese trades. Was he paying back debts?”
“You went to the Cash and Carry?” Liz asked.
“Yes, he worked for them most weekends, usually in the accounts. It was all above board too. They were pleased with his work, so much so that he was employed by them immediately after finishing University until he got a permanent job at the accountants, Jones and Croucher. It was for about six months.”
“Where did he live after Uni?”
“According to his employers, he was sharing a flat with two students. Just a second…” Owen flicked through his notes. “Yes, here it is. The flat was in Chadwick Street. Actually, when I checked, they’re very posh apartments that look onto the canal. It’s near the Armouries. Not cheap by all accounts but some middle-eastern students often rent there so it’s not unusual. I thought it strange but if he were being paid well it shouldn’t have been a problem, particularly sharing.”
One of the officers who’d been chewing a pencil for most of the briefing made a solitary contribution. “Who were the flatmates?”
“We don’t know at this stage but that’s being looked into. It shouldn’t be difficult to find out providing everything was above board. If he were crashing on someone’s couch, we’ve no chance. I’ve requested the names of all tenants for that period and we’ll see if anything shows. I’ll pass that task to you to chase, Stuart.” Owen looked at the officer chewing the pencil and smiled.
“Remind me to keep my big mouth shut,” he grumbled with a smile. The others around the table giggled.
“Anything to add Liz?” Cyril asked as he finished the last drop of his tea.
“When we interviewed the driver of the truck, he informed us that Stella organised the taxi to and from the meeting. It’s logical. I’ve checked her phone records and there is no taxi company number on the phone. I’ve one number that appeared on the night in question but it’s now discontinued! Obviously a buy and throw card.”
“Your feelings about the truck driver? Honest? Straight?” Owen asked.
“He seemed genuinely concerned about Stella. Even the attending officer and the paramedics suggest that if he wasn’t, he should win an Oscar.”
“We know where he is and we have bail set.”
***
The maroon Mercedes 4X4 slipped down the slope and turned onto the platform leaving the Eurotunnel train; it was five minutes early. Hai Yau looked across at his wife and smiled. As usual, she held a small dog that was curled on her lap. It was going to be a long drive. They had planned to arrive at the farm by four in the afternoon but that would depend on the motorway traffic and the number of stops needed to let t
he dog and his wife piss. France was so much easier with its tolls and predictable traffic. They had spent the night at the hotel Suite Novotel at Sangatte , ten minutes from the Eurotunnel check in. Hai Yau could not help but feel excited at the opening of, in his eyes at least, his most expensive and contemporary restaurant. The ones in Romania ran themselves, he had a good team and those in Yorkshire were beginning to be profitable but all were really only fast food establishments. This was a step up, in both direction and clientele. His workforce too added to his coffers.
To Hai Yau it was his reputation as a local businessman that mattered most, a businessman who was seen to have charitable links that were growing; sponsoring local children’s teams, donating to the local hospice, all found the news; he was ring-fencing. Slowly but surely he was creating the façade that he needed in order to hide the less savoury elements of his life. It had been easy in Romania, money talked and blind eyes were turned; in England money still talked but in a far more subtle way.
One thing both he and his wife had missed was their son, Angel. He smiled to himself at the thought of the little boy who had been brought to his house, a little boy with a brave face but with tears in his eyes. He then thought of the beautiful young man he had become. Hai Yau felt the warmth of pride swell within him.
The Yorkshire roads were quiet once they had left the busy motorways. Within half an hour they would be home. Hai Yau rang the farm from the car phone and Angel answered.
“Welcome, welcome home. We’re ready for you. I’m sure you’ll want a shower and a good meal and then we’ll catch up. Drive safely.”
The farm gates opened with a press of the remote and the Mercedes pulled into the yard. Standing silhouetted in the stone porch was Angel. He brought his hands in front of his chest as if in prayer and bowed deeply before running to open the passenger door.
***
Rares paced the solitary room. His anxiety grew by the hour. He had heard that the police had searched his trailer and he knew Angel’s father was due; a man he most feared. To Hai Yau, he knew he was dispensable. He was also worried for Sanda. He had glimpsed her briefly as she was driven away but she had failed to see him. She looked tired. Suddenly his imagination became his enemy, he thought of her being forced to have sex with a number of men and he shuddered, he could neither sleep nor rest. He concentrated on an image of the trailer’s interior, mentally searching the surfaces and cupboards for anything that might connect him to the dogs. He remembered the syringes and bottles and began to sweat even more. If Angel were to know, it would be the end.
***
The gates to the farm opened and father and son drove towards Harrogate. Although Hai Yau was tired after his journey and meal he desperately wanted to inspect his new restaurant. Work was still ongoing. Only small, decorative jobs that seemed to take the most time and consume the most cost, remained outstanding. As they turned off the road, the restaurant car park was almost clear apart from one lockable skip. Two men swept around the outside and stopped to inspect the car as it entered.
“We’ve nearly finished but the lighting and the floor were so expensive.”
Hai Yau looked at his son. “Remember, my child, that cheap things are not good and good things are not cheap. This has to be the best, the best staff, the best food and as you have seen, built with the best materials. You’ve done well. I need to see my kitchen for it is in there that the magic will happen.”
Angel stood amazed that after all these years his father had lost none of his enthusiasm for cooking. He led the way, walking in before standing beside the stainless steel work surfaces. He turned to his father and noticed the man was weeping. He paused and lowered his head.
“We shall bless it tomorrow and the training will begin. My staff is ready, yes?”
Angel nodded. “They are in the accommodation at the rear, they’re especially well looked after and keen to begin.”
“I’ll see them in ten minutes. Have them here.”
Angel moved swiftly as his father ran his hands over the surfaces and opened the fridges and drawers. He had worked hard for this and his mind reflected on his first ever restaurant and he smiled to himself.
“You’ve done well, Hai Yau,” he whispered to himself as he wiped away another tear.
Angel led nine people into the restaurant and he introduced his father. They stood in a line before him. He bowed and smiled.
“I’m pleased to say that you’ve been chosen to work with me in this wonderful kitchen. The word sounded more like chicken.”
He stopped speaking English after seeing the quizzical expressions on some faces and spoke in Romanian.
“We’ll make wonderful meals together. The work will be hard and the hours long. Everything must be perfect, including you, and you and you…” He stopped at Sanda. “You cook before, girl?”
“Yes, at home, but not the food of the Italian people.”
“You will or you’ll not cook at all.”
He went down the line and looked into each pair of eyes that held a sense of fear of the unknown. Each began to wonder why they had allowed themselves to be brought here but then, memories of sleeping rough, of only occasional work, of not knowing where the next meal would come from, suddenly seemed a far cry from their present, privileged position. What could be worse than the gut wrenching fear felt in those cold, dark, early hours on the streets of Bradford or Leeds?
“If not, my friends, you’ll no longer be here, you’ll find yourselves working elsewhere and not one of the chosen few as you are now and certainly not with the benefits. For here, as you have seen, you’ve good beds, you’ll eat well and there’ll be money to send home, more than you’re used to. Most importantly, you’ll slowly become trusted, you’ll learn skills.” He paused. “But with that trust comes a responsibility to my family and to me and should that trust be broken, no matter how insignificantly, the consequences will be very serious indeed. You’ll be on call at any time. You’ll be clean and tidy and this kitchen will be the cleanest in Harrogate. We start tomorrow with cleaning at 6am. Does anyone not want to be here? For now is the only time you get to change your mind. We have five days to be ready.”
Heads turned to look down the line but nothing was said.
He waved his hand to suggest they could return to their rooms.
Angel didn’t want to spoil this momentous occasion in which his father was revelling, so decided to keep Rares out of the conversation until the following day when they both could digest the implications of the police visit.
Chapter Eighteen
The police car dropped Jim by the bus station. His bail had been set and there was nothing else he could help with. Besides, he had a new job to find once he returned home. He could have taken the train but that would have been costly. There were four buses daily travelling between Harrogate and Edinburgh and this would do just fine. He stopped and bought a meal deal and two cans of lager before sitting on the bench to wait. He looked at the bay number. It was 13, just his luck or not as the case might be. It was quiet. The coach was due to leave at 11:35 stopping at Newcastle at 14:00 with an hour wait and then on to Edinburgh. It seemed a long journey but he was in no particular rush, after all he was missing the one thing that he had come for. After fifteen minutes, a large gentleman came and sat next to him. A peaked cap almost covered his face. Jim had failed to notice his approach or see him take his photograph on a mobile phone before he sat down. Jim turned and could not help but focus on the disfigured ear.
“Angel sent me to say thank you for keeping your gob shut. He asked me to give you this and said that if he sees you in this neck of the woods again…” He paused and looked at the ground. “You’ll not be leaving vertically.” He turned and grinned, his toothless smile said it all. “If you know what I fucking mean. Seeing the fucking taxi didn’t return for Stella there was no way to get it to you.”
He handed Jim a plastic carrier bag. Jim looked at it and back at the messenger.
“I hope it�
��s all here. Tell Angel that’s more than fine by me. He has no worries on that score unless this is the same quality of shit that did for the lassie in ma truck ‘cos if it is, its na only me you’ll be getting a visit from. I take it he received the payment intact otherwise I wadnae be holding this or having this chat with ya now?”
Cezar only nodded and stood. “Not as thick as you look.”
“And big guy, should we ever have to meet again, I’ll be happy to remove the rest of your fucking teeth. I might claim the other ear too, if ya know what I fucking mean.”
His Scottish accent seemed to emphasise the threat as he pronounced the word ‘I’.” He locked eyes and refused to turn away. Cezar could only fume inside. It was rare that anybody, particularly someone much smaller than he, would dare to retaliate either physically or verbally. He spat on the floor in front of Jim.
“I have people who would pay to see that, pay good money.” Cezar smiled and turned. He knew all too well that he could neither cause a problem nor go against Angel’s wishes. At that moment the National Express coach pulled in front of them with a squealing hiss of breaks. The engine was switched off.
“An tell that Angel chappy that I’ll clip his fucking wings too if I ever meet him!” Jim’s voice carried across the station and a number of people turned to see who was shouting but Cezar was gone. He heard nothing. Jim stuffed his meal deal into the carrier and waited for passengers to get off before helping an elderly lady climb the steps. He followed her before settling into a seat half way down the coach. Three other passengers got on, all men. One stayed near the front and two came towards the rear occupying the seat directly behind Jim. The seats in front and next to him remained empty. The coach would leave on time. Jim pulled the ring on one of the cans.
Hell's Gate: A gripping, edge-of-your-seat crime thriller Page 10