The Darkest Lies: A Gripping Crime Mystery Series - Two Novel Boxed Set (The DI Hogarth Darkest Series Boxed Sets Book 1)

by Solomon Carter

  “They send it in a container ship, miss. It takes weeks. I knew I wasn’t going to see that for a long while.”

  “But how long ago was the order made? When did you part with your money?”

  “About a month back.”

  “Mr Deal, don’t you suspect the order was never placed? I’m sorry to say you could have lost ten grand to a con man…”

  “No. You don’t know, that’s just talk. But what of it, anyway. The business is scotched now anyway. Even if the goods turn up, I wouldn’t be able to run it by myself. Not unless the lad Drummond recommended is willing to stay and help…”

  “Excuse me? Drummond chose you an assistant, did he?”

  “Yeah. It was a good offer,” he said, nodding, “The guy would run the warehouse on near enough minimum wages. Looked like he had a brain in his head too.”

  “Did you meet him then?”

  “Once. Bookish looking lad. Ideal for the job.”

  “Let me guess,” said Palmer. “He’s not called Daniel Picton by any chance?”

  “Dan? Yep. That’s him. Worked in aviation before apparently, but Drummond said he’d given it all up and was looking for a new thing. Dan was a pushy little bugger though. Kept calling me to see if he could get access to the garage before we started receiving the stock. He said he wanted to clear up and get it ready. As far as I was concerned it was empty enough, bar the shouting.”

  Palmer smiled. Deal smiled back, not knowing the context. Peter Deal was indeed a simple man. He seemed ready to forget a ten grand loss because the man he gave it to showed him some bank statements. He didn’t wonder why Drummond recommended Picton for the job either. Picton had needed the garage for his drug business, and when Deal had denied him access, he’d taken matters into his own hands. Palmer reckoned the man was too simple to be involved with the drugs. But in the eyes of the law, ignorance wasn’t a good enough defence, though Deal’s innocent mind might just have gotten him off the biggest hook of all. Murder.

  “Mr Deal. Do you really believe Jake Drummond intended to set up a business with you?”

  The man stroked his stubbly chin and looked away.

  “You keep pushing don’t you. Look. In the end I did have a few doubts. But not the way you’re thinking. I liked his business idea. It made sense to me and I wanted in. I had doubts because I saw his head get turned by another business opportunity quite late into our dealings. He denied it, but I knew what I saw. I’d seen him with her. That’s the only reason why that bloody DJ was poking his nose in at the club. If he knew what was good for him, he’d have left me alone.”

  “Sorry, I don’t follow you, Mr Deal?” Palmer had been ready to leave but now she took out her notepad and gel ink pen once more. Deal saw the pen poised above the pad and hesitated.

  “Go on. You’d seen Drummond with someone?”

  “It was Gary Grayson’s latest girlfriend. The one he spends most of his time with, at least. I heard the woman was in the double-glazing business with her husband. She left him and took him to the cleaners, so I knew she had some money going and a head for business too.”

  “You saw Drummond with her?”

  “Yes. And I’d heard her yapping about wanting to set up a new business just a few weeks back. I was out with Jake talking about our business, and there was this girl sitting there with Gary Grayson. It was early – before he started working the club that night. The woman was half drunk and yapping so loud about her plans, half the town must have heard. I thought it was the drink talking, but it caught Jake’s interest. I knew he was listening. It didn’t bother me right then, mind. It only bothered me when I saw them drinking coffee together at one of those posh coffee houses in the town.”

  “But what made you think it was about business rather than pleasure?”

  “It was obvious. For one, Jake was no looker. And I saw Jake had his leather case with him. I saw it on their table. The only time I’d seen that case with him was when he was talking about business. There was paperwork on the table too, just like what he did with me when he told me about the business. Then I got worried. But I didn’t speak to him about it, because I didn’t want to cause friction. So I left it. But that woman, and Grayson, they’re bloody loudmouths. They’re the kind of people who would have stitched me up to get a piece of that deal. Drummond was one of the sharpest people I’ve met. I didn’t want him getting poached by someone else…”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that, Mr Deal. I’m learning a lot about Jake Drummond on this case. I’m pretty certain he would have stayed with you until the bitter end.”

  Peter Deal nodded. He seemed pleased with Palmer’s words.

  “I wouldn’t have been too chuffed if he had dumped me for them, I can tell you. You hear about people getting done over all the time in business, don’t you?”

  “You certainly do, Mr Deal. You certainly do,” said Palmer. “Now, do you mind fleshing out a couple of things you said…”

  “Of course. Such as?”

  “You suggested Gary Grayson had more than one girlfriend on the go?”

  “Him? He’s what I call a shagabond, if you catch my drift…”

  “A womanizer?” said Palmer.

  “Absolutely. Alison Craw, that’s his girlfriend, she’s the one with the money. The poor woman seems to think he’s a good bet. If only she knew…”

  “Knew what, Mr Deal?”

  “He gets through women as quick as he gets through his beer.”

  Palmer put her pen to her mouth. Visiting Deal had been worth it. Palmer looked at her notes. She had collected news on Grayson and Alison Craw. Drummond’s web of activity and range of scams were impressive. And the more she found, the more motives for murder seemed to pop up. But looking at Peter Deal, DS Palmer couldn’t help feel a shred of pity.

  “We may need to speak to you again, Mr Deal. Until then, all the best with your business.”

  “Yes. I think I’ll keep that Daniel on. He’s pushy, but I’ll need someone if this is ever going to work. Jake’s gone, but that Chinese stock will be here soon.”

  “Yes,” said Palmer, standing up from the couch. “It’s very good that you’re so positive, Mr Deal.”

  Deal grinned at the compliment. DS Palmer sensed another flirtation coming, so hurried out politely and closed the door on the man with a thin but firm smile, and walked down the stairs. Deal was a benign idiot who had been fleeced for ten grand. In the grand scheme of things, he’d gotten off lightly. He was almost certainly innocent of the crimes Picton and Cruddas had committed on his property, but he was still on a sticky wicket with them being on his premises. But as motives for murder radiated in every area of life Drummond had ever touched, it seemed as good a time as any to go back to the scene of the crime. That was where the scumbags gathered. The club seemed to be the centre of the web and it sounded like Gary Grayson and his girlfriend Alison Craw had a few questions to answer.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Day Six: Wednesday

  Almost recharged by a full night’s sleep, DI Hogarth and Palmer left the station with the address of Gary Grayson’s girlfriend, Alison Craw. Hogarth felt almost bright eyed. He’d chosen to skip the extra nightcap and settled on just the three drams of whisky in front of the news channel. These days drinking was compulsory to get through the news. The world was going to pot and in a big way. Hogarth only watched the news to remind him that a world existed beyond the confines of Southend’s shores but after a half hour’s viewing, the news channel made Southend look like a kibbutz. Even so, Hogarth wasn’t tired or depressed. The killer was still very much on the loose, and there was a chance he would kill again. There was still the conundrum about the blood on Picton’s spectacles to solve, and the fact that Picton and Cruddas had left the club before he died. And the murder weapon was still missing, as was Cruddas. The case was a mess. But it couldn’t dampen his mood or the faint but growing belief they were getting close. Palmer and Hogarth had already swapped stories about Peter Deal and Bar
bara Cruddas. Somewhere between these names and their murky stories, the killer was lurking, hiding just out of reach. The case was still up in the air and the killer on the loose, but he felt buoyant. But there was a reason for that. At 2pm he was set to meet his own Alison, the gorgeous Ali Hartigan. He could barely wait. He still needed to work out a decent excuse to cover an hour’s absence from the case, but he’d blag it somehow. Until then he needed to focus his mind on the job. So, it was time to visit a new name in this mess. Another Alison –Mrs Alison Craw. Each time they looked at the case again a new layer appeared. Hogarth wondered what they would discover next.

  Alison Craw lived in a street of semi-detached houses in Hadleigh, five miles out from Southend. Some of the houses still wore their eighties pebble-dash like a shabby suit. But not this one. Mrs Craw’s house had been done up in a fashionable white, with trendy period-grey doors. The windows, he noted, were fully double glazed. “You reckon she got him to do those windows before the divorce?”

  “What?” said Palmer.

  “Her ex. The double-glazing man. This must have been his work. Looks like she’s taken him to the window cleaners,” said Hogarth with a grin.

  “You don’t know anything about their marriage. He probably deserved it.”

  “From what I see of divorces, it’s the blokes who usually get rinsed and the women get the lot. Makes me glad I never got married.”

  “And not being married makes you happy, does it?” said Palmer.

  Hogarth sensed he needed to tread carefully with what he said next. Palmer was a woman. They were sentimental about marriage. Like they were about horses.

  “It doesn’t make me happy, but it makes me less unhappy than it would if I was in that double-glazing man’s boots. Enough gender politics for one morning, eh? Before I cause an uproar.”

  Hogarth walked up the path and rang the doorbell. The bell made a deep chime which echoed in the hall. When the door opened, a sleepy-eyed Gary Grayson answered. The DJ was wearing only a pink terry towelling dressing gown which finished high on his hairy legs. Grayson blinked at them, yawned, and dragged a hand through his scruffy bleached-blond hair before he stepped behind the door for dignity’s sake. Palmer grimaced. She’d seen too much already.

  “Look it’s DJ GG. Well I never. Pink suits you,”

  “Eh?”

  “The dressing gown. Very new man. I think DS Palmer would approve.”

  “What do you want?” said Gary Grayson.

  “Not you, Gary. Not yet. Though I might want a word afterwards. I came here to see your good lady, Mrs Craw.”

  “Alison? Why? What’s she got to do with Jake Drummond.”

  Hogarth grinned. He put his hands in his pockets and gave Gary Grayson a glare which said it was none of his business. Hogarth gave Grayson a testing look, to see if the man was blagging. But Grayson’s morning eyes were so small and beady they were impossible to read.

  “Deejaying last night, Gary? Or just on the razz for the sake of it? I heard you have a liking for the bottle. Amongst other things.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he said.

  “Nothing Gary. I was just making small talk. Now, if you don’t mind I’d like to speak with Mrs Craw.”

  They heard feet advance along the hallway before a well-presented woman appeared. She had long, thick dark hair. It was tight and curly, almost as if it had been permed and there was a hint of red in it. The woman had a wide face and big serious brown eyes. Hogarth might have described her as thickset or fuller-figured, but she wasn’t fat in the least. She looked strong. And those eyes looked nothing less than bolshie.

  “Alison Craw?” he said.

  The woman was dressed in a brown business suit, with a white blouse. “Yes?”

  “Off to work, are you?” said Hogarth.

  “No. I don’t have a job at present. But I’ve got some business meetings. Why? Who are you?”

  “Detective Inspector Hogarth and this is Detective Sargent Palmer, Southend CID. We’d like to talk to you about a certain matter, if you can spare the time…”

  Palmer wondered why Hogarth was being so deferential, then she realised he was filling time as he waited for Gary Grayson to disappear. Grayson lingered by the stairs. Alison Craw followed Hogarth’s eyes.

  “Do us all a favour, Gary,” said Mrs Craw. “Go and have a shower and put some clothes on. You look a right state.”

  “Charming. Just don’t let these coppers do a job on you, Alison. Coppers are always on an angle,” he said, as he started to climb the stairs.

  “Nothing like you, eh, Gary? You’ve got nothing to hide.”

  The DJ looked back at Hogarth but said nothing. Then he carried on his way.

  “You’d better come in then,” said the woman. “But I can’t spare long.”

  “No one ever can. Thanks, Mrs Craw. I do call you Mrs, do I?”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t undo what’s been done. Yes, it’s Mrs Craw.”

  She led them down a neat modern hallway with a wooden floor into a mocha-walled lounge.

  “Sit down,” she said. The woman made a point of shutting the heavy living room door while Hogarth and Palmer took their seats. Hogarth studied the woman’s manner. She closed the door firmly, checking it was sealed. It was as if she was making a point of shutting Gary Grayson out. Hogarth wondered what she was about to say.

  She sat down on a deep brown leather chair opposite their perch on the sofa.

  “You and Gary are quite a couple,” said Hogarth, with typical bluntness.

  “What do you mean?” said the woman. Alison Craw seemed pretty blunt in her own right.

  “Nothing. It’s just that… you’re very different, shall we say,” he said.

  “Gary’s nothing like my ex,” said Alison. “But after him different is good. Besides, we’ve been together two years now., so it must work. So,” she said, her voice changing tone. “What’s this about?”

  “I have a feeling you might already know,” said Hogarth.

  The woman gave him a steely look with her wide brown eyes, but she gave nothing away.

  “Jake Drummond,” said Palmer, to break the silence.

  “Part time blackmailer and extortioner,” said Hogarth. “You knew him, didn’t you, Mrs Craw?”

  “You mean the man who was killed at Club Smart?”

  Hogarth ignored the question. He kept his gaze on hers.

  “You knew Jake Drummond well enough to have one-to-one meetings with him in local coffee shops, so I’m told.”

  The woman blushed. She batted her eyelids until she regained control of her face.

  “It’s a small town,” said Hogarth. “People get spotted doing all kinds of things they thought hadn’t been seen. Don’t fret it.”

  “I don’t like the tone, or the implication of the way you’re speaking, Inspector.”

  “Maybe not. But I’d still like you to acknowledge the question. Did you know Jake Drummond?”

  Hogarth said the name louder and the woman flinched.

  “Keep it down, will you… yes, I knew him.”

  “What is it? Doesn’t Gary know that you had dealings with the man? My, my, Mrs Craw… Whatever did Jake Drummond have on you?”

  “Excuse me?” said the woman. She frowned.

  “You had meetings with him in coffee shops. From what I hear Drummond wasn’t the best kind of company. Not exactly a raconteur or a cuddly friend. More of a chiselling scoundrel. The kind who only bothered with you if he thought he could get something out of it. From the look on your face, I’d say I’m right…”

  “What happened to Jake Drummond had nothing to do with me.”

  “This is an investigation, Mrs Craw. We push every door, turn every stone and we don’t jump to any rash conclusions. Right now, we’re gathering information.”

  The woman let this sink in and nodded. The tension evident in her bunched shoulders melted just a little.

  “Then what do you want to know?”

&n
bsp; “The nature of your meetings with Drummond.”

  “I don’t see how that could be relevant.”

  “Let me be the judge of that.”

  “But it’s not the kind of thing that’s easy to discuss.” Craw’s eyes flicked towards DS Palmer. Palmer and Hogarth shared a glance, and the DS shifted in her seat.

  “Did the man put you under some kind of pressure… to do something?” said Palmer.

  “I’m not the kind of woman people can mess with easily. You may have gathered that already,” she said. “The trouble was Jake Drummond didn’t come at me like that otherwise I would have dealt with him. I thought I recognised him from the club, but I wasn’t sure, because I only went there once. It’s a place for kids, not grown-ups. But I remembered that later, after our first meeting.”

  “The meeting. How did it come about?”

  “He called me about a business proposition. I was sceptical, but intrigued. I agreed to meet him to look at his proposal. At this point, I was neutral to cold on the idea, but I was being polite. I owed it to myself to make sure that I didn’t knock back a golden goose. But as soon as he took out his paperwork, I knew the idea was a dud.”

  “So? What was his pitch?” said Hogarth.

  “Essentially he was offering a business as a re-seller of cheap Chinese tech. But there were so many holes in his plan I didn’t know where to start. Cheap Chinese tech is a liability. It breaks easily. It can get lost in transit or never arrives even after you’ve paid for it because it didn’t exist in the first place. It was a badly flawed business plan built on lots of risky assumptions.”

  “Did you tell Drummond that?”

  “I skirted around it, but tried to let him know what I thought politely.”

  “How did he respond?”

  “He turned stony-faced and said he had another idea. I tried to tell him no thanks, another time. But he said I needed to hear it now.”

  “And?”

  The woman looked at Hogarth. He saw her struggle, and then she turned away to face Palmer.

  “He brought out some photographs. They were copies of very personal photographs. I don’t know where he got them. They depicted things I did with my ex, Andrew, when we first got together. Private things. Things I now regret.”