by Jean Chapman
‘He will be,’ she said grimly, though she silently and reluctantly admitted it was more likely to be Cannon.
‘All those shots?’ Alamat questioned.
‘Just a few strategically placed old bird-scarers,’ Hoskins grinned, ‘surprising how you can herd things in the direction you want ’em to go.’ He stepped forward to look at the smaller man more carefully. ‘What’s happened to you?’
Liz wanted to ask him about the gun and the bird-scarers – he had not had time to go home to fetch them – but that question could wait.
‘A gun butt,’ Liz explained, ‘but I think we’ve got worse in the cellar,’ she told him as she led the way to the top of the steps – the cloying smell of warm blood met them.
‘No, I’ll go first. Come on, lassie….’ Hoskins said as she looked likely to protest. He brushed past her with surprising speed for his age and before either of the others reached the bottom the body was covered by his waterproof coat. ‘No hope,’ he said, ‘shot straight through the heart.’
From the amount of blood the body lay in, Liz believed it. The heart was obviously Sean’s chosen target; these gunmen had MOs even for casual murder.
‘Who?’
‘One of theirs,’ Liz said.
‘But not a Jakes,’ Hoskins stated. ‘I could see that.’
‘No, but they were looking for one of their wives and her son hiding down here.’ She heard Hoskins blaspheme under his breath as she stepped carefully around the blood still slowly seeping between the floor bricks, and went towards the plastic curtain. The sacking where Carol and Danny had sat was still in place, the heavy strips moved slightly in the draught from outside.
Pushing her way through she noted the black rectangle of sky above her head; surely if Danny and his mother were out there they would not have gone far. Then she noticed that a tarpaulin that had lain flat and discarded for months was now rucked up into a heap in the slight recess to the side of the barrel chute. What was it covering?
She reached over, took the top edge and pulled it away quickly.
The two figures huddled together as tight as a Japanese netsuke did not move and both had their eyes closed, screwed tight.
‘Carol, Danny, they’ve gone, you’re safe,’ she said, and when they still did not move she bent to touch Danny’s shoulder. He flinched as if it had been a blow, then he opened his eyes.
‘Mrs Cannon,’ he said. ‘They’ve gone?’
‘Yes, come on, let’s get you up into the warmth.’
Before there could be any further discussion, Hoskins busied himself closing the overhead doors.
‘Sean,’ Carol said as she began to uncurl herself, ‘he shot the moaner….’
‘But they didn’t find us,’ Danny said gratefully as Liz led the way. ‘It was Mam’s idea to open those doors and then hide in that dark corner.’
‘And it worked,’ Liz said, ‘thank all the gods.’
‘You learn a lot of tricks to outwit your husband when he’s a Jakes,’ Carol said grimly and positioned herself so she walked the side of the body, sparing Danny as much as she was able from the sight of the form beneath the green waterproof coat.
‘Will you phone Mr Cannon?’ Danny found his voice again as they reached the bar. ‘He’ll know what to do.’
‘You’ll have to tell the police,’ Carol said matter-of-factly.
‘You could say it was a raid,’ Danny suggested, ‘not tell them about us.’
‘What I must do is re-lock the front doors and put up a notice to say we cannot open tonight,’ Liz said. ‘I’ll do that now or we’ll have some of the regulars in here and that’ll complicate matters even more.’
‘We are nothing but trouble,’ Carol said, ‘we should just go.’
‘Where though, Mam?’ Danny asked.
‘I’ll think of something,’ Carol said but there was no hope in her voice.
‘We’ll think of something,’ Liz emphasized.
Alamat went to re-lock the doors. Liz led the others through to the kitchen and wrote the notice stating ‘unforeseen circumstances’ which Alamat went back to tape to one of the glass panels of the outer doors. Hoskins put the kettle on and Liz tried to reach Cannon, but his phone gave her the information that ‘The person you are calling cannot take your call right now, please leave a message and I will get back to you as soon as possible.’ You’d better, she thought, and resolved that she would make one more call before she had a proper look at Alamat’s face.
Jim Maddern answered his phone almost immediately with a short sharp, ‘Yes?’
‘Jim, its Liz, I’ve another problem.’ She walked back through to the bar area, lit only by the fire, to tell him exactly what it was.
‘I’ll come,’ he said, ‘don’t contact the police, not yet, it could be even more dangerous for Danny and his mother if you do.’
‘Where are you?’ she asked.
‘Near Jones’s house,’ he replied.
Chapter 11
Whatever the circumstances of his homecoming Cannon always turned along the last straight stretch of road to The Trap with a sense of relief, looking for the glitter of a dyke, a swathe of bushes and then … and then he should see the lights of the pub.
The jeep hit the verge as he lost concentration. Where were the lights? What had happened? The phone call he had not taken a few minutes ago … ‘Where are the bloody lights?’ he shouted in the full, unrestrained cockney tones of his fruit-and-veg-stall father.
He stopped the jeep in a great splattering of gravel, threw himself out, left the engine running and door wide open, sprinted to the back door and burst in like a deranged marsh-devil. Then he stopped, taking in Carol, Danny, Liz bending over Alamat, and finally Alamat with a large dressing on his forehead and the beginnings of discolouration which would be a black eye of impressive proportions.
‘So,’ he said, addressing Liz, ‘are you all right? What’s happened?’
‘We have a murdered member of the Jakes gang in the cellar,’ she said.
Don’t beat about the bush, he thought. When he immediately made for the cellar, Liz followed, telling him the story as they went. He took in the smashed door, switched on the light and went down, lifted Hoskins’s coat, aware they both stood reviewing the body keeping the old professional emotional distance in order to deal.
‘Broke his leg and had too much to say,’ Liz said.
‘So Sean Jakes executed him.’ Cannon lowered the coat gently and wondered if this was the one who’d had too much to say at the Smithsons’ house. ‘And,’ he added, ‘I think it’s not the only man they’ve killed today.’ He told of his find in the back of the dumped Mercedes van.
‘I think we have to wait for Maddern to arrive before we do anything …’ Liz began.
‘If he was at Jones’s home he shouldn’t be long,’ he said.
‘So you knew where he was,’ she said.
‘We decided someone should keep an eye on his movements,’ he answered. As they reached the bar he caught her hand. ‘You really all right?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘You?’ she asked and received an answering nod. ‘But I think we’re in this well over our heads.’
‘Talking of heads, should we ask the doctor to see Alamat?’
‘He says not …’ she broke off as they heard the sound of another car pulling on to the gravel.
By the time they reached the kitchen, Maddern was there, and he had a different air about him. He extended his hand towards Cannon, who automatically held out his. The sergeant dropped the jeep keys into his palm. Cannon half expected to be charged with leaving a vehicle running while unattended. Maddern was no longer a victim, this was a man of the law with all his old authority – and there was no doubting the comfort Danny got from his presence.
‘You going to help us, Sarge?’ he asked.
‘This your mam?’ Maddern asked.
Danny nodded enthusiastically and told his mother, ‘We’ll be all right, now Mr Cannon and Sarge are here.’
‘Yes, I’ve booked a room for the two of you at the travel inn where I’m staying,’ he said, ‘and I’m going to take you there as soon as I’ve sorted a minor problem. Could you come and have a look at my car?’ he asked Cannon.
‘There’s—’ Danny began, ‘—in the cellar, Sarge.’
‘Yes, I know what’s happened,’ he said, then nodded to Hoskins and added, ‘glad you’re here.’
‘Are you?’ Hoskins asked cautiously.
‘We all are,’ Cannon said as he picked up the torch from the table and followed Maddern. It was not the time to say more.
‘It’s not a mechanical problem,’ Maddern told him as Cannon swept the beam of light over the Peugeot, ‘it’s on the back seat.’
Cannon went to the back and shone the light in onto a large dog, a large full-grown greyhound, long legs concertinaed beneath bony frame, dark eyes wary and blinking in the light.
‘Where have you picked that up from? It’s hardly the time to be dealing with stray dogs,’ Cannon said.
‘It belongs to Jones.’
‘Jones?’
‘I found the perfect place to keep watch on him. At the end of his garden there’s a purpose-built bird-watching hut someone had built years ago, the whole place is more like the pad you’d expect a chief constable to have than an inspector,’ Maddern said. Cannon wondered not for the first time if the keys to the place had not been dropped into Jones’s palm as a sweetener and a lasting obligation to the Jakeses. He remembered the diamond ring tossed to Danny.
‘I didn’t realize Jones wasn’t there for a start, his car was in the drive,’ Maddern was saying, ‘then he came back on his own in a police patrol car – which surprised me a bit – and in a right mood, as far as I could judge. The place is isolated and they don’t bother drawing curtains. I could keep my binoculars trained on Jones and his missus most of the time. He went upstairs and she’s following, backwards and forwards arguing with him, but whatever she’s saying he’s not having any of it. He hurls suitcases on to a bed and begins packing.’
‘He could be going on holiday,’ Cannon suggested.
‘Hold on,’ Maddern said.
‘Not long after, he comes out with his dog on a lead, goes off along a sandy path in the dunes. Just walking the dog, I thought, but he’d no intention the dog should enjoy it. He marched along and if it tried to stop he yanked it on hard, much more like the man I know. I didn’t try to follow him, but I watched him go into a clump of pines beyond a little row of old beach-huts. While he’s gone, his wife spends much of the time on her phone, and she’s still walking up and down, up and down past the windows while she’s talking.’
‘Go on,’ Cannon said grimly.
‘Then he comes back without the dog, goes in, and they’re arguing in earnest now. She throws her mobile at him but he ducks and just goes on packing. I thought they were leaving there and then, but she goes into the kitchen, looks as if she’s preparing a meal and he comes down in lounging pyjamas.’ he paused. ‘I knew because the girls bought me the same pair for Christmas. Anyway, he begins to go through a desk. They look settled for a bit so I walk over to the trees and find the dog strung up.’
‘What d’you mean strung up?’
‘Hanging,’ Maddern said. ‘The bastard had put a rope round its neck, thrown it over a branch, pulled the dog up and left it to strangle itself. It’d only lasted as long as it had because it was managing to scrabble its back legs up the trunk of the tree and take some of the weight off its neck It was getting very weak,’ Maddern leaned down to look in at the animal, ‘but I’m pretty sure it’s going to be all right.’
‘The bastard,’ Cannon repeated. ‘I heard that’s how some of ’em dispatch their greyhounds up where he comes from, if they stop winning.’ He thought of Jones’s lack if advancement since he came to the area and wondered if he was hanging up his career for something more immediate from the Jakeses, and more substantial if gold, anything like the Brink’s Mat robbery, was involved.
‘I wondered if old Hoskins would take the dog on for a bit, keep it out of sight?’ Maddern said.
‘We’ll ask, but the woman and the boy, do you think the travel inn is a good place?’ Cannon wondered as they hovered outside.
‘It’s out of the immediate area,’ Maddern said, ‘no better place to lose people than in a crowd, and there everyone is busy about their own affairs and their own journeys.’
‘Right, so that’s your next move,’ Cannon said.
‘Then back to the Jones’s pad, we keep each other informed all the time and—’
‘We consider our next move,’ Cannon said, ‘who we can go to … who you trust.’
Maddern did not reply.
‘We have evidence enough about the Jakes family—’
‘—but not about Jones,’ Maddern said grimly, ‘and prising out a bent copper would mean more to me. I love my job, been proud to be part of it all….’ He tailed off; emotional outpourings were not part of his make-up.
‘So once you’ve gone,’ Cannon said, ‘I shall ring the police, say we’ve had a raid, three men broke in, injured Alamat, smashed the cellar door perhaps thinking it might be a spirits and cigarette store, one fell and broke his leg and the other shot him to shut him up, then the other two made off empty-handed.’
‘All almost true as far as it goes,’ Maddern commented, ‘good thing you’re on the side of the righteous, and …’ he paused, ‘it’s going to be very interesting who turns up after you ring the station.’
Chapter 12
It was Jones. His face was its normal pale mask with small watchful eyes, but tonight there was something else. Tonight he looked as if he’d drawn in his lips and cheeks prior to giving the derogatory-sounding suck of his teeth – but had forgotten to complete the trick.
Cannon had hardly let him into the kitchen when two further cars pulled in. Jones seemed agitated by their arrival. Cannon wondered if he had wanted time on his own to view the body. Outside under the lights he saw two uniformed constables being detailed to deal with others cars and customers. Two men in plain clothes came towards Cannon. He recognized one, Detective Inspector Betterson of the regional crime squad, and he knew the other man by sight as his detective sergeant.
‘In the line of fire again,’ Betterson greeted him as Cannon led the way into the kitchen.
‘Well, my partner was,’ he said. ‘I didn’t arrive until it was all over.’
The first thing Betterson did was send for the doctor to look at Alamat, view the body, its position and its surroundings, then he began to listen in more detail to what had taken place. To keep Jones in ignorance and as hastily agreed with Hoskins and Alamat, the presence of Carol Smithson, Danny, Sergeant Maddern and Jones’s dog (dropped off in Hoskins’s kitchen and left with water and biscuits as instructed by the old man) was omitted from all their stories. It worked well, Cannon thought, with Hoskins in particular receiving some admiration from the detectives for picking up Liz’s warning not to enter the pub and then managing to frighten them off, ‘with bird scarers’. Betterson was both incredulous and impressed.
‘And you were where?’ Betterson asked Cannon.
‘Coming back from the village.’
‘The village?’
‘The newsagent’s.’
‘Right, and when did you realize something was wrong?’
‘As I came down the road, the outside lights were not on,’ Cannon said. He was hopeful of being quickly left to one side as the routine of questioning, statements and forensics began to take over the untidy business of sudden violent death and make it into a manageable format. At his most cynical Cannon had always seen the process as a kind of street-cleansing exercise. Put up the screens, shield the public from the worst with the ubiquitous blue and white tape. Even now he could hear a loud, intense murmur of voices from the front of The Trap as his customers were turned away. Speculation would be rife, but none of it, he imagined, would be anywhere near the truth.
The question sent a slight pang of concern through Cannon’s system as he thought of the diamond ring dropped into the small drawer below the cash takings and documents he kept in the safe. He shook his head. ‘It was never mentioned,’ he answered.
‘The class of criminals who make such a daring entry to premises just at opening time, and with firearms, usually have a specific objective,’ Betterson said, watching Cannon closely. ‘When do you bank, Mr Cannon?’ the detective persisted.
‘Monday, first thing after the weekend.’
‘So Saturday before the evening opening hour is not a good time to raid for money?’
‘No.’
‘The cash would not be a large amount?’
Cannon shook his head. ‘Not at this time of year anyway.’
Whether this was leading to being asked to display the safe, which was in fact no more than a strong box inside an old gun cabinet bolted to the wall of the pantry, Cannon did not find out, for Jones’s mobile burbled. His private phone, Cannon noted as Jones turned away to answer it.
‘June?’ he queried. ‘What! When?’
Betterson had turned to Liz and indicated they might go through to the bar where his sergeant had finished interviewing Hoskins, when Jones interrupted. ‘It’s my wife, she’s been out looking for our dog and she’s found a body, a man’s body. It could be just an old man died out walking, but I feel I should go back to her.’
‘Of course,’ Betterson responded immediately, ‘my sergeant will go with you. The Scene of Crime people are on their way here so they’ll want us out of the way.’
Liz glanced at Cannon as both registered the fact that Jones’s wife had found a body while looking for a dog her husband had left to die – and Cannon had a very bad feeling about the ‘old man’.
When Jones and the detective sergeant had gone it left only Hoskins, Liz and Cannon with Betterson. Alamat had told his story, been taken to his room and the doctor was with him. Hoskins, who had also made his statement, was asked whether he was planning to leave the area.