by Bill Kitson
‘It isn’t his real name,’ he began, his reluctance obvious. ‘Only a nickname, I think. And I only heard it once, and that was accidental. They call him Stanley, Stanley Slicer. Rumour is they call him that because it’s what he carries; a Stanley knife. He uses it on people who cross him. Or so they say. I don’t know for sure.’
After they had managed to drag a description of the man called Stanley from the dealer, the detectives signalled an end to the interview and left the solicitor to confer with his client. When they emerged from the interview room Fleming said, ‘The description of one of the delivery men fits Newsome, don’t you think?’
‘I do, and the description of the other one is just as accurate.’
Clara saw Jackie’s look of surprise and explained, ‘His name is Lee Machin. Viv and Lisa have gone to interview him. If we’re in time we should be able to get them to arrest him. Then, if we go round there, we can search his place too. Now I need to try and catch Viv and Lisa before they head back to Helmsdale, and besides, word was passed during the recess that they want to speak to me.’ As she took out her mobile, she added, ‘I don’t like the sound of this Stanley character. He sounds a very nasty piece of work. I don’t fancy meeting up with him, but I would like to stick him where he belongs; inside.’
Fleming shrugged. ‘The aggravating part of all this is, that we may not have to worry about it. Once they get wind of what’s going on, the men in charge of these gangs usually vanish before we can get close enough to them, certainly before we can gather sufficient evidence to prosecute. Then they pop up again somewhere else under another name once the heat’s died down.’
Sadly, Clara thought, Fleming’s assessment was only too accurate. Perhaps this time though, it might be different. It would be nice if they were to get lucky for a change. She brightened. ‘At least Lisa’s theory about Machin was spot on,’ she commented as her phone was answered. ‘Lisa, where are you?’
‘Still on the Westlea. Sorry to break you off, but there’s something I think you should know.’
‘Don’t worry about that, in fact I’m glad you’re still there. Have you spoken to Machin?’
‘ No, he wasn’t home. There was nobody in. We spoke to a neighbour, who isn’t their greatest fan. He said they went out over an hour or so ago.’
‘OK, I want you to wait near his flat, close enough to spot him when he returns, but not in a position where he might twig that you’re there. When he turns up, wait until he goes inside and then arrest him. We need him to be inside when you collar him. Charge him with supplying Class A drugs. Hold him there and get word to me immediately. I’ll leave instructions to interrupt us, even if we’re in an interview. Jackie and I will head straight out and then she can authorize a search.’ Clara paused and added, ‘He’s been identified by the dealer we arrested as being one of the couriers. Is the motorhome there?’
‘It is. It’s about the only thing on the site worth more than scrap value.’
‘Good. Now, what was it you wanted me for?’
Lisa explained what she and Pearce had discovered. ‘The number plates on both Machin and Newsome’s motorhomes carry the same supplier’s name. It may just be coincidence, but we thought it might be worth checking.’
‘I’m sure you’re right. Let’s see how things develop on that front. Now I must go. We’re re-interviewing Eileen Newsome, and that’s going to be fun.’
Eileen Newsome looked far from happy at the prospect of a further interview, obviously her idea of fun differed widely from DS Mironova’s. She looked less and less delighted with life once the questioning began. This time Jackie had instructed Clara to take the lead.
‘You’ll no doubt be keen to know how your beloved husband is,’ Clara said by way of opening the interview. ‘In which case, I’m pleased to be able to tell you that he’s fit and well.’
Eileen glared at her but said nothing, so Clara continued, ‘I bet you’re wondering how I know that, and the answer is, because we have him tucked up warm and cosy in a cell at Helmsdale. Of course I don’t think he’s as warm and cosy as he was when we arrested him.’ She glanced across at Fleming. ‘He looked very content with life then, didn’t he?’
Jackie was waiting for a prompt such as this. ‘Oh yes, very content, I’d say. Although that might have been because he’d just ... er ... finished what he was doing before we burst in on them. I am glad we didn’t interrupt them when they were still ... er ... busy.’
‘Oh dear me no, that would have been most unfortunate.’ Clara agreed.
‘What do you think it was they were playing before we got there? I feel sure it wasn’t snakes and ladders.’
‘No, it was certainly more energetic than snakes and ladders, because Patrick was exhausted, fast asleep. In fact both of them were, so it must have been something really strenuous.’
‘You may know what the hell you’re talking about, but I’ve no idea.’ Eileen spat the words out.
Clara’s tone changed from frivolous to direct. ‘We’re talking about your husband Patrick. You do only have the one husband, don’t you? Yes, I thought so. Well, when we interrupted him, Patrick was in bed with a very attractive young lady and neither of them had any clothes on. He looked quite sad when we arrested him, and not at all pleased when we told him he could be moved here to be near you. In fact he seemed quite put out at being separated from, what was her name? Shelley? Tracy?’
‘Sharon,’ Fleming reminded her.
‘Oh yes, Sharon, that’s right. I knew it was one of those names that are popular with younger women. Did you know about her?’ Clara paused and watched as Eileen Newsome’s expression changed from nonchalance to thunder. ‘No? Oh dear, how careless of me. That makes me wonder what else Patrick might have been up to that you’re unaware of.’
‘If that dirty ungrateful bastard has been dipping his wick with some tart or other, he can fuck off and never come back. I’m fed up to the back teeth with him. He got me into this mess. I told you that. If it hadn’t been for him I wouldn’t be here now. He made me do it. The shoplifting, I mean. I didn’t know about the drugs. That’s something else he didn’t tell me about.’
‘Oh yes, I remember you did tell me about Patrick putting you up to the shoplifting. He must have a real way with women, your Patrick. Apart from Sharon, I mean, we knew he was having his way with her. I have to admit I didn’t have him down for so much natural charm, but I don’t know him as well as you. To be able to persuade not one, but two women to go shoplifting for him, he must be like a sort of Fagin for the over forties. And all the time you’re doing that, together with your pal, risking imprisonment on his behalf, he’s busy, what was the expression you used? Dipping his wick into the lovely Sharon and setting up a really cosy love nest with her.’
‘I’ve told you all I know. He never lets me know where he is one minute to the next. For all I know he could have been shagging half the women in the county. He goes out at night and comes home next morning knackered and smelling of cow shit. If he’s been with a mucky tart he hides it well. Unless she’s a farmer’s daughter.’
‘ What do you mean?’
Clearly, Eileen realized she had said too much. Although they continued to press her for more information about Newsome’s nocturnal activities, Eileen remained silent. She had, however provided them with one valuable piece of information, that Newsome was absent from home for much of the time, even before his misalliance with Sharon. It was a long time before Clara realized what Eileen’s oblique reference to cow shit signified.
The solicitor decided that he had by now spent long enough there. It had been what he deemed to be a long day. The general opinion was that half his clientele were now resident in the custody suite. Before leaving, the solicitor insisted that Patrick Newsome was charged with possession with intent to supply, and that he would be back the following day to see his client. At that, he swept his notes and pen into his briefcase and marched out of the building.
Lee Machin had returned
home and been arrested. A search of his house and the motorhome had been accompanied by a running commentary of invective from Machin’s partner, almost all of which was unrepeatable. As Lisa was attempting to calm the woman, Pearce stared at her, and as recognition dawned, suggested that Lisa ought to handcuff her as well. Lisa looked puzzled but did as he suggested. Once they were out of earshot of their prisoners, Viv explained. ‘Unless I’m very much mistaken I think we’ve just found Eileen Newsome’s shoplifting partner. That woman looks very much like the one on the Good Buys CCTV footage. I’ll go and caution her.’
The search of the motorhome had turned up another package of what looked like heroin, the hiding place similar to the one used by Patrick Newsome.
Faced with this evidence, Machin had elected for the strong silent defence. He hadn’t said a word, from the time Viv Pearce had placed the handcuffs on him, throughout the search of his house, the subsequent interview at Helmsdale station, and his incarceration in the last of their holding cells.
Given the population of prisoners, the station had to remain open overnight, instead of the normal office hours. It didn’t help that the remand wing at Felling Prison was full. As Binns handed over to his counterpart, drafted in from Netherdale specifically to cover the night shift, he remarked, ‘You may get a visit from an architect. We’re going to need a two-storey extension to the cell block if things continue like this.’
The night sergeant grinned and joined in the fun. ‘What are we doing about breakfast for the prisoners? Have you booked a catering firm that specializes in large events?’
Despite the success they had enjoyed that day, any elation Clara might have felt evaporated when she reached home that evening. She was exhausted from the extremely long day, drained and empty and had no difficulty in identifying the source of her disquiet. She hadn’t heard from David in over a week. She knew there were bound to be times when he would be unable to make contact when he was involved in an operation of some kind. That in itself was cause for concern. The sort of missions someone with his background and specialist training and skills was sent on were all extremely hazardous. The very same reason that he was unable to call her was the one that prevented her picking the phone up and ringing him.
She rooted through the freezer and picked out an individual quiche which she placed in the oven. She didn’t feel particularly hungry, but knew she ought to eat. Besides which, it would serve as a distraction. In the lounge she poured herself a whisky, savouring the smooth fire and enjoying the peaty aftertaste. She wandered around the flat, checking the oven timer more than once, wondering if it had developed a fault. Surely there had been fifteen minutes left on the display last time she had looked, which had been two laps ago?
She raised her glass and was surprised to see that it was empty. After a moment’s hesitation she poured a second drink. Normally, she would have restricted herself to one, but tonight, she felt the need. ‘It is a double malt after all,’ she muttered.
Chapter twenty-one
On her way to Helmsdale the following morning, Clara called in for a brief meeting with the chief constable and Jackie Fleming. It was far more upbeat than their previous discussions had been. The arrest of the drug dealer, both his couriers and the seizure of a considerable quantity of illicit drugs were all contributory factors. A sobering note was introduced, in that there was still no progress towards resolution of the unsolved murders of PC Riley, the two men in the picnic area, and the deaths of the three addicts in the squat. However, towards the end of the meeting, Mironova was able to announce another possible breakthrough. She was encouraged by Jackie Fleming, who saw no good reason to take the credit for the work of the junior members of her team.
‘We already know that Lisa’s theory of the use of motorhomes to get the drugs into our area is correct,’ Clara began. ‘However, we now believe the significance of the vehicles used might be even greater than we thought previously. When Lisa and Viv were having a look round Machin’s place, Viv spotted that both the motorhomes we’ve searched were from the same dealership.’
‘How did he know that?’
‘By the name they put on the number plate. Both vehicles were supplied by a company called Morag Caravan Park. Of course, it may be pure coincidence, or it could be that whoever is running the drugs has bought from the same place to get a better price. But what if the motorhome dealer themselves is the importer? If they are supplying large quantities of drugs they would need a business with a big turnover to launder the money. And given the very high cost of these motorhomes, I can’t think of many better. All they would have to do is sell three or four of the flashier vehicles in a short space of time to make a six figure deposit in their bank account very easily explainable. Nobody we’ve arrested so far seems at all willing to say much about the people they’re working for, even Greasy Palms the dealer we threatened with a triple murder charge was less than forthcoming. If the man he referred to as Stanley is as evil as the reputation he was given, that isn’t altogether surprising. But as we have no other leads to go on, we believe it might pay dividends if we were to have a look round the place where these motorhomes originated.’
The chief constable thought about it for a few moments. ‘I agree,’ she said eventually, ‘however, I think we’re moving into an area where it might be better to at least consult the specialists before we make a move. I think we’d have to proceed with extreme caution. By the sound of it, I don’t for a minute believe the people running this show will have left the stuff lying about for us to find. Having rolled up the first two links in the chain of supply, we must be getting very close to the top. Before you do anything, I should have a word with the Drugs Intelligence Unit; it wouldn’t do to have us gatecrash their party. This is first class work, though, by both Viv and Lisa. Be sure to tell them both how pleased I am, will you, Clara? Now, is there anything else to discuss?’
‘Just one other small matter, a bit of a puzzle we need to clear up with regard to Patrick Newsome. It may be of absolutely no significance, but when we arrested him he had a key-ring on his person and we know for a fact that the keys on it don’t fit any of the doors in his house. Or should I say houses’ – Clara added with a grin – ‘seeing we found him in bed with his mistress. Anyway, we asked him about the keys but he won’t tell us anything, which we thought was suspicious. Actually’ – her smile widened – ‘he won’t talk about anything, not since he discovered we’d told his wife about the other woman.’
‘What an exciting life some members of our criminal fraternity lead,’ O’Donnell commented. ‘Didn’t Mrs Newsome say anything? I thought once you’d let slip about her husband’s infidelity she might have been only too anxious to drop him in it. A woman scorned and all that.’
‘Oh, she’s already trying to blame him for any crime she can think up,’ Fleming interjected, ‘but she knows nothing about the keys, nor does the other woman, Sharon. What Eileen Newsome did tell us was that she never knows where Patrick is for long periods of time. Of course, now she knows about Sharon she thinks he was with her all the time, but we believe if that had been the case, Patrick would have owned up to it. All Mrs Newsome said was he returned smelling of animal dung. Without finding the door those keys unlock though, we’re none the wiser.’
‘What about that dodgy friend of Nash’s?’ O’Donnell asked. She looked at Clara, ‘You know, the little Scotsman, used to be a burglar – the one who rescued you from that quarry. Hasn’t he got a locksmith’s business nowadays? He might help you identify the mystery key. What was his name?’
‘Jimmy Johnson! Of course, I never thought of him. I’ll take them round to his shop as soon as I get back to Helmsdale.’
Shortly after Fleming and Mironova left, O’Donnell’s phone rang. She listened for a long time, occasionally making notes on the pad in front of her. ‘Say that again,’ she said at one point, ‘and spell the name out for me. OK, I’ve got that. I’ll make sure it gets dealt with immediately. Is there anything else I s
hould know?’
There was another long silence as O’Donnell listened to what was obviously a detailed explanation. ‘My word,’ she said eventually, ‘you have been busy. What? There’s more? Go on then.’
The caller spoke, and O’Donnell’s face was a picture of incredulity. ‘What did you say? What sort of...? Oh, fish vans, right, I see.’ She chuckled. ‘Yes, I suppose it does make perfect sense, it just seemed so incongruous. And because it sounds so weird that makes it the perfect way of doing it. Who on earth would suspect one of them? I’ll get the team on it. I’ve also got some information for you. It’s to do with that woman’s name you were given.’
The mild headache Clara was suffering, induced by her third whisky the previous evening, wasn’t helped by the clamour that assailed her ears as she entered the premises of Helm Security. A succession of bells, whistles, sirens, and electronic wailing sounds of several different tones battered her eardrums into submission. Clara put both hands over her ears and waited for the racket to cease. It did so, only when the man she had come to visit entered from the workshop to the rear of the shop and pressed a button underneath the counter.
‘Sergeant Mironova!’ He greeted her with a warm smile, not something he would have done for many police officers. ‘Sorry aboot the din. I’m testing a new system fer a customer.’
‘Well you can tell them from me that it works. How are you, Jimmy? Keeping busy?’
The Scotsman smiled again. ‘Once upon a time I’d have had tae refuse tae answer that question on the grounds it could incriminate me. Nowadays, I’m happy tae say, I’m very busy. More than ever, wi’ the recent spate o’ burglaries. That’s done wonders fer ma turnover.’
‘Well, I hate to disappoint you, but we’ve arrested someone who was responsible for quite a few of them.’