“Time to get the message, copper. Stay the fuck away from her or this gets worse.”
“Hartigan sent you,” said Hogarth, in a croaky voice.
“Just stay away. Yeah?”
“Tell him…” said Hogarth.
“We ain’t telling nobody anything!” said the bigger man.
“Tell the bastard that he’s just lost my vote,” said Hogarth. The big man landed one more kick as Hogarth let out a long wheezing laugh. Then he watched them turn their backs to leave. They jogged along the grass and dived into the car in the shadows. The headlights came on and the car shot away around the bend towards Shoebury. They were too far away for him to read their plates.
***
Hogarth had always hated being told what to do. He had been that way ever since he was a child. It was the reason why he’d seen so much of the headmasters office and had spent a lot of time standing alone, facing the wall. In the more than thirty years since, little had changed.
He saw Hartigan’s Jag parked on the driveway, turned at a fancy diagonal angle as if it was still in the showroom window. Hogarth pressed the doorbell long and hard, then stepped down from the doorstep and waited. There was a movement of shadows behind the front room curtains, then a light came on in the hallway. A larger, male shadow led the way, followed by a female one. When the door opened, he saw it wasn’t the secretary. It was Ali. He didn’t look at her directly, but he saw the sudden shock on her face. He still didn’t make eye contact. Instead he looked up at the smarmy James Hartigan, with his fashionable beard and his open-necked shirt collar. The man looked back at him in pure disgust.
“What the hell do you want now? Stay back, Ali. The man’s disgusting. Look at him. He’s a disgrace to the police.”
“You’ve already had your say, Mr Hartigan. Tonight, you’ve had a free hit. But that’s it. That’s your last one.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”
“Piss off,” said the MP. He started to close the door but Hogarth slammed a flat palm against it and held it open.
“I know your game. I know scumbags when I see them, and you, my friend, are a scumbag of the highest order. What happened in that car park just now proves it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Hartigan.
“You wish you didn’t,” said Hogarth.
“Go away before I call the police.”
“I’m going. But you gave me your message. And this is mine. I’ll be watching you.”
“Ali, is this the stalker you’ve been complaining about?” said Hartigan. He floundered away from the door, letting Ali get a clear view, before he blocked the door again.
“What do you think, Ali? Is this the man you saw?” Hogarth saw the arrogant duplicity in the man’s eyes.
“No, that’s not him. I’ve told you what he looks like,” she said, her voice shaking.
“But how can you be sure? Now get off my driveway, officer, or I’ll have your job before the morning.”
“I’m going,” said Hogarth. But he couldn’t resist. He turned back. “Tell me, Mr Hartigan. Did you have any ambitions to be in government? Or even to get to number 10?”
Hartigan fell silent and stared at Hogarth.
“Because I now know enough to put the kibosh on that too, don’t I? I don’t care about losing my job. But I bet you care about yours. Good night, James,” said Hogarth. “Sleep tight.”
Hogarth ambled slowly back to his car. He heard the door shut behind him and the raised voices of a domestic argument commence.
He shouldn’t have done it. But screw it. Maybe everyone involved needed a reality check, not just him. One way or another, here it was. Whatever happened next, he was in too much pain to give a toss. Whisky was calling. The morning would bring what it would bring.
Hogarth’s phone buzzed through the darkness, buzzing louder than he thought possible. It cut through the black fog of his sleep, stabbing at his temples, announcing the pain which drunken sleep had hidden from him. Hogarth tried to stretch and he groaned out loud. His aching limbs finally woke him. It was dark, pitch black in fact. But it was still winter, and the mornings were not yet light. As he reached for his phone Hogarth’s shoulders jerked with pain. His eyes snapped open and in hot shame he recalled what had taken place, the new enemies he had made, and the seismic shift his love life was about to take. None of it seemed possible. He hoped it wasn’t. There were going to be consequences all round, and not many of them good. He grabbed his phone and the slits of his swollen eyes opened enough to see his LCD alarm clock. 11:57pm. He hadn’t been asleep for more than forty minutes and now the pain had started over again. A familiar sense of alarm gripped him. Ali?! But when he saw the name on screen all that changed.
Vic Norton. Norton was calling.
Legendary scoundrel, greedy little snitch and all-round waste of space.
Hogarth threw his phone far away from the bed and left it ringing. He rolled over, grunted and covered his head with the pillow. A storm of racing heartbeats and regrets gave way to a final, dead-bodied sleep.
Hogarth drank two coffees with his Ibuprofen and looked in the living room mirror for as long as he could bear it. His left eye was puffy and there was a dark gash by his temple. There were bruises all over his body. He could only imagine how the gossip machine at the nick would react to this.
A list of excuses whizzed around his head like a Catherine wheel but none of them seemed good enough.
It was ten to eight – time to leave for work. But first off, he wanted to get even with Vic Norton for the late-night interruption. In Norton’s world, eight am was the equivalent of three in the morning. Hogarth picked up his phone from the floor and dialled Norton’s number directly.
Norton didn’t pick up, so Hogarth got ready to leave a snarky voicemail. But just as he was working up a decent insult, the nasal whine of Vic Norton’s voice came on the line.
“I wondered when you’d call.”
“Vic. I’m surprised you’re awake this early,” said Hogarth.
“And I’m surprised you didn’t call back sooner. Unless you didn’t check your voicemail.”
“I thought I’d save myself that little joy.”
“There’s little joy involved, Inspector,” said Norton, hamming it up.
“Spit it out. I’ve got work to do.”
“Right you are… I’ve got some new facts about that girl of yours, Inspector.”
Hogarth blinked at his reflection. He narrowed his eyes and his heart started thudding faster.
“What girl?” said Hogarth.
“You know the one. The one you haven’t got…”
Hogarth growled and cut the call. But as the seconds passed, his rage turned into a morbid curiosity.
He turned for the front door, but he stopped at the threshold, and walked back into the living room. He looked at his phone and re-dialled the last number.
Norton answered before Hogarth had time to speak.
“I didn’t think it would be long,” said Norton.
“Whatever you have to tell me, tell me now, and tell me everything, or so help me I’ll…”
“Ah-ah-ah. No threats,” said Norton. “Or I won’t tell you a thing.”
Hogarth fell silent and blinked at his battered reflection in the living room mirror.
“Good,” said Norton. “But there’s one more thing, Inspector.”
Hogarth listened. “Go on.”
“This is going to cost you…”
Hogarth gritted his teeth and got ready to listen.
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The DI Hogarth Darkest series
The Darkest Lies
The Darkest Grave
The Darkest Deed
The Darkest Truth
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featuring Eva Roberts & Dan Bradley, private detectives
Luck & Judgment
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The Last Line thriller series – espionage, international adventure and all out action with Jenny Royal and The Company
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THE DARKEST Boxed set 1
The Darkest Lies and The Darkest Grave
DI Hogarth Darkest Series Books 1 and 2
First published in Great Britain in 2018 by Great Leap
Copyright © Solomon Carter 2018
Solomon Carter has asserted his moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction and except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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The Darkest Lies: A Gripping Crime Mystery Series - Two Novel Boxed Set (The DI Hogarth Darkest Series Boxed Sets Book 1) Page 53