‘Do you think it was to do with rugby?’
I didn’t have an answer. ‘It could have been.’ I knew she meant well, but it was stirring up too many bad memories. I didn’t want to talk about it.
Sarah stood up. ‘You’ll understand, then. I need to know what happened to my dad.’ She paused for a moment. ‘And if it’s going to get any worse.’
The bar grew increasingly busy as the night went on. My mood changed when I saw George Sutherland making his way through the crowd towards me. I hadn’t spent much time trying to sort the cigarette problem out.
He pointed at me as he approached. ‘I want a word with you.’
I didn’t respond. The people standing close to me started to drift away.
‘I thought it was time we had a catch-up about our mutual business interests,’ he said.
I shook my head. ‘It’s not convenient.’
‘I think it is.’ He beckoned me closer. ‘We can do this the easy way or the hard way.’
He glanced over to the door where Carl Palmer was standing and smiled. ‘Come for a drive with us or I’ll need to have a word with that brother of yours.’
I got into Sutherland’s car. We headed down Spring Bank and crossed the city centre, picking up speed as we hit Hedon Road. There was little traffic on the road heading east. I asked where we were going, but received no answer.
Sutherland waved the question away. ‘Any news for me?’
I told him I had nothing new.
‘Not much of a detective, are you?’
‘Probably not.’
‘I want my money, Geraghty.’
I didn’t reply. We passed the docks and Sutherland spoke again. ‘What do you think to all this green technology shit they keep banging on about, then? Might even make a more suitable career for you if you’re lucky.’
Palmer laughed at his boss’s joke.
‘Who knows?’ I said.
We lapsed back into silence and slowed down as we pulled off Hedon Road. We headed past the flattened site of Fenners and took a right turn at the Preston Road traffic lights.
Sutherland spoke. ‘We need a word with someone. Seems like he hasn’t learned his lesson, either.’
‘Who?’
He smiled. ‘Another debtor.’
Palmer pulled off the main road and drove slowly down a dense road of terraced houses. Every speed bump he hit acted as a punch to my stomach. I realised that I’d been here recently. Palmer pulled up and Sutherland told me to get out of the car. I thought briefly about refusing, but it would be pointless. Whatever was about to happen, I was going to have to be a part of it.
Sutherland knocked on the door, took a step backwards and waited. I was looking at the neighbour’s house. They were either in bed or out. They certainly weren’t going to challenge three men banging on a door at this hour. Sutherland knocked again, louder this time. When the door was opened, Sutherland stepped to one side and let Palmer take his place. Palmer didn’t wait to be invited in, instead forcing his way through into the house.
‘After you,’ Sutherland said to me.
I did as I was told and followed them into the living room. Terry Gillespie was already on the floor, Palmer standing over him. Sutherland nodded and Palmer dragged Gillespie up before throwing another punch, this one breaking Gillespie’s nose. The smell in the room was disgusting. It had been takeaway pizza and cheap lager for tea. Sutherland picked up a chair from the dining table and placed it in the middle of the room. I kept myself out of Gillespie’s eye-line. I didn’t know how he’d react to seeing me. Palmer threw another punch and Gillespie’s head lolled to one side. He took a length of rope out of his pocket and tied Gillespie to the chair. I looked away as Palmer continued to beat him.
It stopped when Sutherland spoke. ‘You let me down, Terry.’
Gillespie could barely focus. He didn’t answer.
‘If you can’t pay me back, you need to make it up to me.’
Gillespie smiled. ‘Fuck you.’
Sutherland sighed and stepped aside. Palmer threw another punch. Gillespie’s head snapped back.
‘Try again,’ Sutherland said to Gillespie.
I needed to get out of the room. The kitchen was as bad as the living room, but it gave me some breathing space. I knew full well why I’d been brought here. Sutherland wanted me to understand the full consequences of letting him down. I took a deep breath and walked back into the living room. Sutherland was breathing heavily and flexing his right hand. He’d joined in the fun. Gillespie’s right eye had closed up.
Sutherland turned to me. ‘Hit the cunt, then.’
I shook my head. ‘No.’
‘Hit him. You’re here with us, so fucking hit him.’
I was rooted to the spot. I wanted to get out of the house and away from them all. Sutherland repeated the order. Palmer moved closer to me. Gillespie slowly started to focus on me. I could tell he recognised me. He looked at Sutherland and started to say something, but it made no sense. I had no idea what he was going to say about me. I stepped forward, closed my eyes and hit him.
Sutherland nodded to me. ‘See. We’re not that different after all.’
It was made clear to me I wasn’t getting a lift back. Sutherland had also made it clear that nothing had changed. I still had the debt to settle and he expected progress. I stuck to the main road and jumped on the first bus heading to the city centre. I stared at my reflection in the window as the city flashed past. What had I become? However bad things were, I certainly shouldn’t be getting involved in George Sutherland’s activities. I turned away, not wanting to look at myself. I’d crossed a line, regardless of what I thought about Terry Gillespie. I should have stopped what was going on, not contributed to it. I was lying to myself. There was no way I could have stopped the beating. I wasn’t even sure I’d wanted to. Gillespie had dragged my brother into this mess and was now paying the penalty. I realised I didn’t give a shit about Gillespie, even when he was being beaten by Palmer. What did that say about me? Maybe Sutherland was right. Maybe I wasn’t so different to him after all.
CHAPTER NINE
I’d slept on the settee again and was woken by the sun pouring into the living room. I made a coffee and stared out of the window and thought about the previous evening. I told myself I needed to get a grip. I was under no illusions as to the danger Sutherland posed to me. He would continue to push me, but I had to protect Niall from him. I searched through my mobile and found the number I had for Coleman. I wasn’t sure what I could do about Sutherland. I needed to think about it, but I also needed to focus on Don’s problem. Coleman was working an active case and he had an interest in Don. It was time to take a chance, see if I could make something happen. I sent a text message containing the name Reg Holborn to Coleman and sat down and waited.
The reply came quickly. Fifteen minutes later, he was in my flat. I brewed a fresh pot of coffee as Coleman paced around my living room, flicking through the CDs and books. I’d suggested meeting him close to the station, but he was adamant he would come to me. We were both playing our cards close to our chests. I was sure he had something to tell me. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here.
‘Like The Clash?’ he said, pointing to London Calling.
I nodded. ‘What’s not to like?’
‘One of my favourites, too.’
I was surprised, but didn’t show it. ‘Must be a bit different to your house, I’d imagine.’
‘Maybe.’ He walked across to the window. ‘Nice view.’
‘It does for me.’
‘It might do for me, too.’
I was puzzled. ‘What does that mean?’
‘My wife’s kicked me out.’
I said nothing. I wasn’t sure why he was telling me this, but I listened. I saw him glance at my photo of Debbie. ‘I’ve moved into a flat on Park Avenue. We’re practically neighbours now.’
‘Right.’ That was why he’d arrived so quickly.
He put his coffee down. �
�Doesn’t seem to be an improvement, though.’
I knew he had a young daughter. It clearly wasn’t an easy situation for him.
‘The old cliché,’ he said. ‘Too many hours at work and not enough of them at home. It takes its toll.’
His card stated ‘Acting Detective Inspector’. Everything comes at a price. We weren’t exactly friends and never would be, but we’d reached an understanding when dealing with each other. I felt sad that he was telling me about his domestic troubles. I suspected he had no one else to talk to.
Coleman got to the point. ‘You wanted to speak to me.’
‘Shall we talk about Reg Holborn?’
‘He was a well-respected detective.’
‘In the past tense.’
‘He retired years ago. Well before my time.’
‘I meant past tense as in dead. House fire.’
‘These things happen.’
‘Not if you don’t smoke.’ Coleman didn’t hold my stare. He didn’t need to say anything more. ‘It wasn’t an accident, was it?’
‘I’m going by what I’ve been told.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘It was an accident.’
‘And this is the ongoing investigation you mentioned?’
‘I’m not prepared to talk about it.’
‘Holborn didn’t get on with Don,’ I told him.
‘Well before my time, Joe. There’s no one around who remembers that far back.’
‘Depends where you’re looking. I talked to people who suggested Holborn wasn’t all he seemed.’
‘I can’t really comment.’
I leaned forward. ‘But people must talk. Old war stories, past glories, that kind of thing.’
‘Not what I’ve heard.’
‘Do you want your wife back?’ I asked.
He was surprised by what I’d asked him. ‘What kind of question is that?’
I shrugged and settled back in my chair. Let him work it out for himself.
‘Of course I do,’ he eventually said to me.
‘You’ll understand, then. There are things we’ve got to do, whatever the cost. This is the least I can do for Don,’ I told him. ‘Wherever it leads.’
Coleman thought about it and came to a decision. ‘Of course people talk. Don was a good policeman. You won’t find anyone who says otherwise. I’m here unofficially. Off the record, right?’
‘Of course.’
‘You might want to look at a man called Andrew Bancroft.’
Coleman left without saying anything further. I wrote down the name he’d given me. Once I was ready, I left my flat and headed to the nearest library. It was busy with a group of toddlers sitting together singing nursery rhymes in one corner. In another, an old guy was reading a newspaper. The librarian set me up on a computer and left me to it.
I entered the name Andrew Bancroft into Google and got too many hits. I tried to narrow it down by putting Hull in alongside the name. I scrolled down the first two pages and found nothing of interest. The woman on the computer next to me complained as I drummed my fingers on the table. I smiled an apology, but she’d already gone back to whatever she was doing. It had been a long shot. Whatever Bancroft had done would be buried in the past and possibly off the record. But it linked to Don and Holborn. It had to be something tangible if Coleman was interested. I would have to do my research using the old school method. I would have to knock on doors and ask questions. It felt like I was slowing making progress.
I headed for Niall’s bar with something like a plan in mind. The door to the bar was locked. I peered in to see him sweeping the floor. One of his mates was restocking the bar. Niall spotted me and let me in.
‘I need a word,’ I said. ‘In private.’
He led me through to the office and sat down. ’What happened to you last night?’
I took the chair opposite him. ‘George Sutherland wanted a word. I was given a warning that I should sort the problem out quickly.’ I paused. ‘I didn’t feel like coming back to the party.’
‘What a mess.’
‘I had to watch as Terry Gillespie was given a beating.’ I didn’t go into details.
‘It’s not going away, is it?’ Niall said.
‘No.’
Niall stared at me. ‘I can’t let this go on, leaving it all to you. I’ve got to make a stand. I’ve got to take some responsibility.’
I cut him off. ‘You need to concentrate on this place and leave it to me.’
Niall shook his head. ‘What about if I ask my mates to back me up? We’ll go and see Sutherland and tell him the deal’s off. We can outnumber him. He’ll have to listen.’
I told him this wasn’t a playground argument. ‘Sutherland and his crew are criminals. They won’t go away because you’ve got some mates.’ I felt bad for saying it, like he was a child, but I needed to spell it out to him. ‘Sutherland will take whatever you throw at him and then come back twice as hard. He won’t give a second thought to having you seriously hurt, or attacking this place.’
We sat in silence, Niall staring at the wall. I told him I appreciated the thought. It was true, I did appreciate it, but he had to know the truth of the situation. I had one last throw of the dice. ‘I’ve got a lead on where the cigarettes went to,’ I said.
‘How did you find out?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ I could hardly tell him Connor had told me. I told him I needed to borrow some of last night’s takings.
I headed east on the M62 in the direction of Goole, ready to speak to the Horton brothers about the cigarettes Milo had sold them. I wanted them back. I saw the two water towers as I approached the centre of town. The salt and pepper pots as I’d heard people refer to them. Goole was a town sat between Hull and Leeds. It was far enough away to feel like alien territory. I parked in the train station car park and decided the best bet was the nearest pub. I headed into the first one I came to. I was the only customer. The landlord was bent over, stocking up a cabinet with soft drinks.
I pointed to one of the bottles of juice. ‘I’ll take one of them, please.’
He held his hand out for payment.
I passed him a five pound note. ‘Expecting a busy day?’
‘Doubt it.’
It was going to be like that. ‘I need some furniture,’ I said. ‘I’ve been told I should see the Horton brothers.’ I took the piece of paper I’d written their address down on and asked him for directions.
He took it from me, looked at it and told me where I needed to go. I thanked him and held my hand out for my change.
I found the shop easily. A man was unloading cardboard boxes from an old red van, the name of the brothers on the side of it. I locked my car up and walked inside the shop. The quality of the furniture they were selling was variable, mainly house clearance stuff, but it was certainly cheap. Eventually I was joined by another man. He was tall, fat and in his mid-twenties. He was chewing gum and smiling at me with an easy confidence. It was kind of smile that was meant to tell me that this was his territory. I was beginning to sense I was about to make a mistake, but there was no going back now.
‘Help you, pal?’ he said.
‘I’m new to the area,’ I told him. ‘Just getting a feel for it, really.’
He nodded. ‘It’s all good quality stuff and cheap. Moving here for work?’
‘Thinking about.’
‘Brave man.’ He folded his arms and continued to stare at me. ‘What line of business are you in?’
‘This and that.’ I held my hand out. ‘Joe Geraghty.’
He shook it. ‘Steve Horton.’
‘So you’re the men to see, I take it?’
‘Definitely.’ He passed me a cheap card.
I took it from him. It stated his name and mobile number. I put it in my pocket and walked closer to the where the till was. I could see the other man unloading the van and stacking boxes in the storeroom. ‘Keeping busy, then?’ I said.
‘We’re always busy.’<
br />
He stared at me, trying to work out my angle. I didn’t flinch, feeling more confident about the situation. They were small town crooks. Given their size, they’d no doubt bully the locals, but they were getting mixed up with more dangerous people. They would end up as collateral damage if they weren’t careful. I glanced again at the stack of cardboard boxes. ‘I’m looking for some cigarettes’ I said.
Horton smiled and stepped towards me. I tensed, ready for his attack. I watched as he went for his pocket. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes and lit one for me. ‘Have one of these, and if you’re not buying, I suggest you be on your way.’
I threw it on the floor and stubbed it out. ‘I want my cigarettes back.’
Horton shouted for his brother to join us. It was the man I’d seen unloading boxes. He appeared from the back room. It was two against one.
‘This cunt thinks we’ve got something of his,’ Horton said to his brother.
‘I know you have,’ I said.
‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, pal.’
It was a stand-off. I repeated that I wanted the cigarettes back.
Horton laughed. ‘Even if we had them, why the fuck would we want to give them to you?’
‘I’ll buy them back,’ I said.
Steve Horton stepped closer to me. ‘Have you got the cash to do that?’
His brother followed him. I stared at them, my heart pumping a little faster. I eventually nodded. ‘I’ve got it.’
‘On you?’ Steve Horton said.
‘I can cover what you paid for them and give you some profit. I know the lads you bought them from and it’s causing some bother for them.’
‘So what?’
‘They weren’t their cigarettes to sell.’
‘Sounds like their problem, not ours.’
‘It’s going to become your problem if you don’t give them back.’
Steve Horton laughed. ‘You didn’t answer my question. Have you got the money on you?’
His brother walked around me and guarded the door. I was boxed in and outnumbered. I’d made a mistake. Steve Horton stepped forward and threw a punch which landed square on my jaw. I fell backwards and before I had time to defend myself, his brother followed through with a kick to my stomach. I collapsed to the floor. The next thing I knew, I was being hauled up and thrown out of the front door. I no longer had the money.
The Crooked Beat Page 9