by Lee Stevens
34
Riley could see the smoke rising above the trees about a mile in the distance; a thin, grey plume, almost exactly the same shape and colour as the one that was dissipating into the sky four miles behind them as it drifted up and out of the entrance to Turner’s club.
“We’re nearly there,” Riley said. He stamped down on the accelerator and dodged through the traffic on the rain-soaked road.
He and Purvis had jumped in the Merc and sped away from the club seconds after Riley had heard the explosion down the phone-line. Purvis had tried to call Sandra another three times since getting in the car but all he’d heard was a recorded message informing him that the call could not be connected. Nash’s mobile had relayed the same message in the same robotic female voice; “Sorry, but the number you have dialled is busy. Please try again later...”
“Try calling again,” Riley urged.
Purvis, still shaken, dried blood clogging his eyes and one hand holding a sodden tissue up to the cut on his forehead, dialled the number and put the phone to his ear. A second later, he dropped it to his lap and sobbed, “Nothing.”
Riley feared the worst but kept driving anyway. They knew nothing yet. Maybe Sandra and Wendy had escaped the blast. Maybe she’d simply dropped her phone when the explosion went off. Maybe...
They’re both dead! You know it!
“Two minutes and we’ll be there,” he told Purvis and kept his foot to the floor.
He turned off the main road and onto the quiet lane that led to Nash’s property. As they drew closer, Purvis pointed ahead.
“The police are there,” he said and then burst into tears again. “They’re dead, Riley. The bastards killed them...”
“We don’t know for sure.” Riley saw that two officers were doing what they did best and were standing guard by the front gates. Behind them, at the house... he couldn’t see just yet. “Just calm down until we know what’s what.”
He pulled up and as he and Purvis jumped out two officers quickly approached them.
“Sorry, this is a closed area,” one of them said, reaching out a hand as if ready to push them back inside the Merc.
“We know,” Riley said and saw that the officers had now noticed their soaked and dirty clothing and Purvis’s bloodied face. They could probably smell the smoke on them, too. “No doubt you heard about an explosion back in the city centre - well, we were there. We called Mr Nash to warn him what had happened and the call was cut off by the explosion here.”
“Are the girls okay?” Purvis hurried forward only to be held back by the larger of the two officers. “Please, I just need to know that Sandra and Wendy are alright!”
“Sir, calm down!”
Riley pulled Purvis back and took over the conversation.
“He’s still in shock,” he said. Behind the officers, he could now see the front of the mansion and make out the scene of the explosion. Two ambulances were parked close to what used to be the front door and several other police officers were standing around the perimeter of the building. They’d gotten here quick and Riley assumed a neighbour had probably called them seconds after the bomb had gone off. On the floor, near one of the ambulances, he could make out a white sheet soaked by the rain. It was obviously covering a body.
Only one?
“Sir, do you require medical attention?” one of the officers asked Purvis. When he kept crying and didn’t answer, the officer turned to Riley. “Are you relatives of Mr Nash?”
“We work for him,” Riley said. “We were at his son’s funeral today. Please, can you just tell us the situation?”
The two officers exchanged a glance. Then, the bigger one said, “Mr Nash has been taken to hospital with minor injuries-”
“What about the girls?” Purvis interrupted. “Are they alright?”
“Both Mr Nash’s partner and his daughter were unharmed.
The blast knocked Sandra’s phone out of her hand, Riley thought. She wasn’t killed. He felt a tidal wave of relief wash over him.
“So where are they?” Purvis asked.
“They’re being treated for shock and have gone to hospital with Mr Nash. I’m afraid the driver of the limo was killed.”
“But the girls are both fine?” Purvis asked, almost heartlessly. It was understandable, given his position.
“Yes, sir.”
Purvis let out a final sob and collapsed to his knees.
Riley knew this time that the tears were ones of relief.
“Sir, are you alright?” one of the officers asked again.
“I think he needs to see someone,” Riley said. “He’s got a head injury.”
One of the officers radioed to a colleague at the mansion, who then alerted the paramedics. Seconds later, one of the ambulances was winding its way down the drive towards them.
Riley patted Purvis on the back and whispered, “The girls are okay. Now, get yourself seen too. I’ll call you later.” Then he stepped away and allowed the paramedics to see to his friend.
He stood by the edge of the gates and looked back at the house, at the body under the blanket.
One dead here, three dead at the club.
This was different to the shooting last week. This had been a more detailed and planned attack. This had been for real. This had Lenny Dainton written all over it, and after what Nash had had done to his nephew the attack certainly had a basis. In the same way that Nash took an interest in Dainton’s men, knowing their whereabouts and routines, Dainton must have done the same. He knew when and where to hit. He knew about Turner’s club. He knew when the best time to plant the explosive at the mansion would be. He’d come after Nash in a way no one expected.
So what about McCabe now? How’s he involved?
Is he involved?
“Mr Day?”
Riley slowly turned around on hearing the voice.
He’d been in that much of a dream he hadn’t even heard the car pull up behind him and someone climb out. He hadn’t even heard the clicking of heels on the wet ground. But here she now stood, only three feet from him, protected from the elements under her grey umbrella. Looking good, too.
“Fancy seeing you here,” detective sergeant Davison said. “Have you got time for a quick chat?”
35
Riley didn’t want the police in his house again and so refused Davison’s forward offer that they accompany him home. He also refused to accompany them to the station for a few questions (purely as a witness to the explosion, Mr Day, nothing criminal, of course). But, knowing he’d have to answer their questions sooner or later, Riley decided to meet them in middle ground and suggested a cafe he knew of that was only a few minutes drive from here. He was allowed to take his own car and five minutes later both he and the two detectives met there.
It was still raining heavily as Riley and Davison took a seat at a table under the canopy outside. No one else was sitting out here and the street the cafe was situated on was quiet due to the downpour, which meant Riley could talk freely without being overheard. Not that he would talk of course. Especially not to the police.
“Tea, coffee...?” Burns asked, hovering by the table.
“Coffee, black,” Riley said and Burns hurried inside to fetch the drinks.
Davison closed her umbrella and shook off the excess rain. Then she propped it beside the table and smiled at Riley. He looked up, checking the clouds to see if there would be an end to the torrential weather.
“It doesn’t look like it’ll stop anytime soon,” Davison finally said.
“What won’t?” Riley asked.
“The rain. I said it doesn’t look like it’ll stop soon.”
Riley looked at her, took in her shiny dark hair, pale complexion and hazel eyes. She looked like an older version of Maria, the one and only woman to break his heart. He moved down to her slender neck with the silver chain around it and down further to what looked to be a smart navy suit under her black jacket. Then he looked back into her eyes and nodded. “It never
rains, it pours, right?”
“I was thinking the same thing,” she said and smiled, showing a top row of sparkling white teeth.
“I take it you’re not talking about the weather anymore,” Riley said.
The DS didn’t answer as Burns reappeared with three foam cups. He placed them in the centre of the table before sitting next to his superior.
“You were at the club on the night of the shooting,” Davison then said, pulling her drink closer to her and looking down into the cup. “And you showed up at Mr Nash’s mansion not long after the explosion today.”
“So?” Riley said.
Davison smiled again, but this time Riley didn’t find it so attractive. She was just a regular, nosy copper again.
“You have to admit, it’s a coincidence.”
“What is?” Riley asked but thinking: Just get to the fucking point!
“You being the only one of Nash’s employees at both scenes.”
“I wasn’t at both scenes,” Riley replied. “I arrived at Nash’s house after the bomb went off.”
“Still,” Davison said and took a sip of her drink, “you were the only one of Nash’s employees to come to his rescue.”
“Mr Purvis was with me today. So there were two employees coming to the rescue.”
“Mr Purvis didn’t go after the shooters at the nightclub the other week,” Burns said, obviously wanting to get in on the action. “And he was injured when he turned up today. You seem to be the one always ready to take control of a situation.”
Riley had heard enough bollocks. They were trying to praise him up. Cater to his ego.
“Can you two just tell me what you want?” he snapped. “I’ve had a bit of a bad morning and would like to go home.”
“We said we could have had this chat at your apartment,” Davison said.
“Well, we’re having it here. Now, will you please get to the questions?”
“Of course,” Davison said and smirked.
She asked what happened back at Turner’s club and Riley told her what he knew – which wasn’t much. Just a wreath left at the door that had obviously been wired up to go off when moved. Davison then asked how he found out about the explosion at Nash’s mansion and Riley explained that he didn’t find out but had heard the explosion when he’d called Sandra.
“Why did you call Nash’s partner and not Nash himself?” Davison asked.
“Because Nash hasn’t been talking much since he had his son’s brains splattered across his face,” Riley answered. The last thing he wanted was these two to find out about Purvis and Sandra. “Anyway, we heard the explosion and drove straight there.”
Davison scribbled something in her notebook. Then smiled again.
“When we spoke to you last week you were adamant that you didn’t know who was behind the shooting,” she said. “Well, what do you think now after what’s happened this morning.”
This one was definitely Dainton’s work, Riley thought. As for the shooting... the jury was still out on that one.
“You’re the police,” he said. “What do you think now?”
“We think the same as before. That Lenny Dainton and his mob were behind the shooting and now this.”
“Well, there you go. Go and arrest him and let me go home and shower.”
Davison giggled and as much as it pained Riley to admit it, he felt himself softening towards her again. He guessed she was the sort of woman who got away with a lot when she fluttered her eyelashes.
“You know we need to follow an investigation and build up evidence before we can do that,” she said. “I wish we could go and arrest Dainton for what we suspect but we can’t. That’s why we need to talk to people like you.”
“People like me?” Riley asked.
“You have good reputation, Riley – you don’t mind if I call you Riley, do you?”
“Everyone else does,” he said. “And what do you mean, a good reputation?”
“Some of the people we’ve spoken to in the last week,” Burns said. “You know, investigating the shooting. Even the people who don’t like Nash speak highly of you. They say you’re not just hired muscle, but a good bloke. Is that true?”
Ah, a typical good-cop saying...
“I just run the doors for Nash,” Riley said. “That’s it. I’m not out to beat people up and meet women. A lot of people think all doormen are just thugs but I know differently. I know that a lot of the blokes I work with are there to make sure people are safe when they’re out on a night. I know a lot of them have to do it for extra money because they have families to provide for and not because they enjoy the violence. If there’s trouble, I try and sort it the best way possible and nine times out of ten you can stop a fight from flaring up by talking to people. If people think I’m a good bloke then it’s because I try and do my job the right way.”
“Nice speech,” said Davison.
“Thanks, I’ve been working on it for the Doorman of the Year Awards.”
“And that’s why we wanted to have a little chat with you,” Davison went on without a pause. “Because you’re a good, honest man we thought you might be helpful.”
“I’ve already told you that I don’t know who wants Nash dead. You keep mentioning Dainton-”
“Who else would it be?” Davison interrupted.
Riley shook his head. This little chat wasn’t about Dainton. This was about himself.
“So, let me take a guess at what you two want from me,” Riley said and finally grabbed his drink and took a large swallow of the lukewarm, sour coffee. “You two want me to keep my eyes peeled and my ears to the ground and when I find out who was behind this I come running to you instead of letting certain other people take the law into their own hands. Right?”
“Near enough,” Davison said. She shot a look at Burns who had stood up to answer a call on his mobile. As the DC moved away from the table she looked back at Riley and asked, “What do you say?”
“You expect me to become a grass?”
“Not at all, Riley. Let me put it another way. I know what sort of man Mike Nash is and what he’s capable of. I know he has eyes and ears everywhere and will see and hear stuff long before it comes to the attention of the police. I also know that unlike you, he’ll suspect Dainton to be behind these attacks and will be planning revenge. What I’m asking of you, being the good, decent man everyone says that you are, is to do the right thing and give us any info you can so that we can take Dainton down and prosecute him to the full extent of the law. I know you might not find any real proof that Dainton was responsible for the attacks so that he can be tried in court but you might learn other things. You might find out about one of his dodgy deals, or details of a past crime, or one that he’s planning for the near future. Give us anything so that we can get him off the street and down the station and throw the book at him. Once we get him on one crime we have the time to grill him about others.”
“And how would that be of benefit to me?”
“Because, like I already said, I know that Nash will go after Dainton. You work for Nash. That means that you will be going after Dainton. And that means when something happens to Dainton, I’ll have no choice but to come after you. But I don’t want that, Riley. Don’t fight fire with fire. Let the law punish Dainton and don’t risk death or imprisonment to pay him back for what he’s done to Nash.”
“I won’t,” Riley lied. “I’ve already told you that I don’t know anything.”
“But you might soon.”
Riley didn’t answer as Burns snapped his phone closed and walked back to the table.
“That was uniform who followed Nash and his family to hospital,” he said. “They’re fine and are probably going to be discharged within the hour. They’re going back to Nash’s apartment in the city centre.” Then, somewhat sarcastically, he added: “Must be nice having more than one house.”
Davison thought for a moment. Then said: “Okay, we’ll go and see if forensics have turned anything up
at the mansion or the club and then call on Nash.” Davison stood up and opened her umbrella. “Thanks for your time, Riley. You still have my card with my number, don’t you?”
“Somewhere,” Riley said, knowing full well that it was probably ‘somewhere’ within the mound of rubbish in the city tip by now.
“Please think about what we’ve discussed.” She flashed him another one of those smiles. “Goodbye.”
Riley picked up his drink as the two detectives headed along the street to their car.
“Silly cow,” he said to himself. “Sexy, but silly.”
“Do you think he’ll co-operate?” Burns asked as he climbed into the car.
Davison shook her umbrella and climbed into the passenger seat.
“Hopefully,” she said. “He’s the best pick out of all of Nash’s men. He’s never been inside and has a good reputation. Who knows, maybe he’ll see sense and do the right thing.”
“In his line of work the right thing is to sort things out yourself and keep us lot out the way,” said Burns.
“Like I said, I think this bloke’s different,” Davison replied. “If he hears something we can use against Dainton then maybe he’ll call me.”
Burns smirked at her.
“Call you?”
“The police, I mean.”
Burns grinned, cheekily.
“You fancy him, don’t you?”
“Just shut up and drive,” Davison said. “He might come in useful, that’s all.”
“I still say we’re wasting our time on him,” Burns said as he pulled away. “If he works for Nash he’ll be loyal. He’s probably had to do some nasty shit in his time. You think he’ll just forget about all of that and side with the police?”
Davison looked out of the window, gazing out at the rain.
“That’s what I’m waiting to see.”
4 YEARS AGO
“So, you know what I want you both to do?”
Riley and Howden nodded.