He told me to sit down. ‘What the fuck do you want, Geraghty? I haven’t got time for this.’ He lit a cigarette. The smoking ban obviously didn’t apply to himself in his own kingdom.
‘I’ve just seen Connor,’ I said.
‘Who’s he?’
‘Don’t take the piss. He’s my brother’s lad.’
‘Never had the pleasure.’
‘I got the message last night.’
Sutherland leaned forwards. ‘I should hope so, too.’
‘Leave my family out of it.’
‘Your brother is fair game if you don’t pull your finger out.’
I walked to the door. I’d said what I needed to. I turned back to Sutherland. ‘You don’t touch him or his family. You come to me if you’ve got a problem.’
‘Sit the fuck down Geraghty and be civil. Otherwise I’ll be offended.’ He smiled at me and leaned back in his chair. ‘I keep asking myself, are you trying hard enough? And I don’t think you are.’
‘That’s your opinion.’
‘Thing is, I’m still not sure if you’re on my side or not.’
‘I want this sorted out.’
‘Pleased to hear it.’ His attention was diverted by a man moving into shot on the bedroom CCTV. A woman followed. I wondered if he knew he was being filmed. Sutherland turned back to me, not interested in the scene. ‘So the thing is, I need to be sure. You’re coming with me on another job tonight.’
‘No chance.’
‘I’m not giving you a choice.’ He picked the telephone on his desk up. I watched the barmaid pick up the call at the other end on the CCTV screen. She passed the telephone to Carl Palmer. Sutherland told him to come to the office. ‘He’ll escort you off the premises,’ he said to me.
I returned to my flat, filled the kettle and put a pot of coffee on. Caffeine would help me think about how I was going to handle whatever George Sutherland was about to throw at me. I called Sarah’s mobile and asked her if she’d had any luck in relation to Andrew Bancroft.
‘Absolutely nothing,’ she said. ‘No one is speaking about him. It’s a closed shop.’
‘Anyone else you can ask?’
‘I’ve tried everyone I can think of.’
‘Not even a hint?’
‘Stonewalled.’
It wasn’t a surprise. ‘Has your dad said anything about Roger Millfield?’
‘Not a thing.’
I wasn’t surprised to hear that, either. I thanked her and said I’d see her soon. I sat back on my settee and closed my eyes. For some reason, Coleman had given me Bancroft’s name, but nobody would talk about him. It wasn’t right. I was sure Coleman wanted me to do his dirty work for him. I woke fifteen minutes later and took a shower, hoping it would perk me up. It did the job and I walked back into the living room feeling much more alert and ready for whatever the evening would throw at me.
I noticed the red light on my answerphone was flashing. I pressed play and listened to the message from Reg Holborn’s son, David. He wanted to speak to me as a matter of urgency and left a number. He’d be available until midnight. I replayed the message and made a note of the number. The dialling code was for London. I found a notepad and pen before returning his call. He answered on the second ring.
‘Joe Geraghty,’ I said. ‘You called.’
He told me he was putting me on hold until he was back in his office. The line went dead and I waited. I was surprised he was working so late. A moment later, he picked back up.
‘Late night?’ I said.
‘It’s always a late night at the moment. It’s an important case. I’m a barrister.’
‘Right.’ That was all I needed.
‘I got your number from the card you left with the lady next door to my father’s house.’
That made sense. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Holborn?’
‘Your card says you’re a Private Investigator. I want to know why you were there asking questions.’
I wasn’t sure how to play it. I was dealing with a man who was both more intelligent and more aware of the law than me. I decided it would have to be the truth. ‘His name came up in relation to something I’m looking into.’
‘And what would that be, Mr Geraghty?’
‘I’m not at liberty to give you the details. Client confidentiality. I’m sure you appreciate that.’
‘I do indeed, but I’m not asking you in a professional capacity.’
‘I’m still unable to help you.’
‘I’m sorry that’s the line you’re taking.’
‘It’s the necessary line, I’m afraid.’
‘Maybe I’ll have to take it further, then.’
‘Acting Detective Inspector Richard Coleman is the man you need. Queens Gardens Police Station.’ I smiled to myself. He wasn’t expecting me to give him a name like that. I decided to push him a bit. ‘I understand your father wasn’t a smoker.’
‘Listen to me, Mr Geraghty. I don’t know what your game is, or why you’re interested in my father, but I’ll tell you this. My father was an excellent detective with an impeccable record. He not only took countless serious criminals off the streets of Hull, but he was also a well-respected man. Ask anyone that. Maybe ask your Acting Detective Inspector. If you take the time to do your homework, you’ll see my father was a passionate man who supported many good causes around the city and made it a better place to live. Can you say you do the same? What I won’t tolerate, and what I’ll take the strongest possible action over, is any suggestion from yourself that my father was anything but what I’ve outlined to you.’ He took a breath. ‘Do I make myself clear?’
‘Perfectly’ I said, before ending the call.
Queens was busy. I had an hour before Sutherland would come looking for me. The landlady asked me if I wanted my usual. I hadn’t been in for a while, so it was nice to be remembered, though I didn’t want to think about what else it said about me. I ordered two pints, found an empty table and sent Coleman a text message. I told him I’d drawn a blank on Andrew Bancroft. The time had come for him to give me something. Coleman walked in ten minutes later. He sat down opposite me and thanked me for the drink.
‘Not a problem,’ I said.
‘It’s good to get out, to be honest.’
I asked him if he was still in the flat.
‘Decorating next time I get a couple of days off.’
‘No going back then?’
‘She’s got someone else.’
‘Must be tough.’
Coleman picked his pint up. ‘What can you do?’
‘Fair point.’
He laughed. ‘I could look him up on the computer at work and then kick the shit out of him, but it doesn’t work like that does it?’ He shook his head. ‘I’m not the first it’s happened to and I won’t be the last.’
I thought about Don. He’d tried to justify his affair by blaming the pressures of work. Maybe I didn’t understand as well as I thought I did. I told Coleman it was a mature attitude to take.
‘Still fancy kicking the shit out of her new bloke, though.’
I smiled and finished my pint. It was his round. He forced his way to the bar. There was football on the big screen. I had no idea who was playing. News was starting to pass me by. It was always the way once an investigation started.
Coleman returned and placed the drinks in front of us and asked again about Sarah. ‘I always thought you two would make a good couple. I’m sure Don would approve.’
‘Doubt it. Not these days.’
‘What happened with you and Don? You had a good little business going there.’
‘We didn’t see eye to eye. Let’s leave it there.’ I was sure Don thought I’d let him down. I’d always had a tendency to stick my nose in where it wasn’t wanted and had proved I couldn’t let things go. Don’s approach to our work had been more pragmatic. It was a job and we owed a duty of care to our clients. No more than that. He couldn’t work with me and certainly didn’t need me bringing trouble
to his door. All that was true, but I still owed the man a debt of gratitude.
I swallowed a mouthful of my drink and got to the point. ‘Who’s Andrew Bancroft?’
Coleman took a piece of paper out his pocket and asked if I had a pen. I passed one over and watched as he wrote down a name.
‘Andrew Bancroft’s brother,’ he said. ‘You should talk to him.’
I left Coleman sitting in Queens. He was going to drink away his troubles, and I couldn’t really blame him. Normally, I would have given serious consideration to doing the same, but my problems were about to knock on the front door of my flat. I walked back there and saw Sutherland’s car parked directly outside. The back door opened as I approached. I got in and said I’d nipped out to do some last-minute shopping. There was no point fighting it.
The doors locked behind me. Carl Palmer was in the driving seat. Sutherland sat next to him. He turned to speak to me. ‘Don’t get smart with me, cunt.’
I knew the trip to Gillespie’s house the previous evening had been the warning. Wherever we were going now was going to be worse for me. I tried to control my fear and remain alert. We headed down Spring Bank and across the city centre, towards the east side of the city, back in Sutherland’s territory.
I leaned forwards. ‘How’s your dad?’ I said to Palmer.
He laughed. ‘Ask him yourself if you give a shit. He spends his days sat with the other tramps near the City Hall, drinking and getting pissed.’
I was hoping to push his buttons a little and stir things up. If I could unsettle him, it would cause Sutherland a problem. But it wasn’t working. He didn’t give a shit about his dad, or the fact I knew about him. The rest of the journey passed in silence. The car pulled up outside of Sutherland’s pub.
Sutherland spoke. ‘You can either walk in there or I’ll get you carried in. Your choice.’
I glanced at Palmer. He was itching for me to step out of line. ‘I’ll walk.’
‘Good choice,’ Sutherland said.
I was on my guard as we walked in. The pub was quiet with a handful of drinkers standing at the bar. The football I’d been watching in Queens was still under way.
‘Up there,’ Sutherland said, pointing to the stairs.
I braced myself as I walked up them first. The expected attack didn’t come. I stared at the three doors in front of me, unsure of where I was supposed to be going.
Sutherland joined me and pointed to the door on the right. ‘In there.’
I could hear grunting noises coming from the room next to it. The female noises sounded fake.
Sutherland repeated himself. ‘In there.’
I did as I was told and walked into a bathroom. There was a toilet in one corner, a sink with a mirror above it in the other. The floor was bare except for a dirty bath mat on the floor. There was no carpet. I barely had time to register the fact that the bath was full of water before Connor was pushed into the room by Palmer. He’d taken a beating. Behind him, a man I didn’t recognise was holding a baseball bat.
‘Think I don’t talk to people, Geraghty?’ Sutherland said to me. ‘Do you think I’m some kind of fucking amateur?’
I didn’t have chance to reply or process what he was saying to me. Palmer dragged Connor across to the bath and forced his head down into the water. I shouted out, but the man with baseball bat stepped forward and hit me in the stomach. I buckled in agony and went down. Connor’s head was dragged out of the water. He was thrown down next to me.
Sutherland stepped forwards and bent down to my level. ‘I know all about the Horton brothers and your trip to see them.’ He laughed. ‘I heard all about you giving them your money.’ He stood back up. ‘Let’s see if I’ve got your attention now, shall we?’ He pointed to Connor. ‘He was given his warning.’
Palmer gripped the back of Connor’s head again. He was pushed back under the water and held there. It can’t have lasted for more than several seconds, but it felt like a lifetime before he was released. He spat the water out and took in a deep mouthful of air.
‘I want my money,’ Sutherland said to me.
‘I need more time,’ I said.
Sutherland nodded to Palmer. Connor’s head was back under water, this time for longer. Sutherland looked at me. ‘Change the record, Geraghty.’
Palmer eventually pulled Connor back up for air. I watched as my nephew coughed and vomited. I tried to think of something I could give Sutherland, something that would bring an end to the situation.
He dropped to his knees again and leaned in close to me. ‘You’re going to try harder?’
I nodded. He was now attacking my family. I had little left to give.
He stood back up. ‘I’m glad that we understand each other at last.’
Hull, March 1984
Ridley pushed his way into the interview room. Gary Bancroft was waiting for him. Bancroft was in his late twenties and already had a long list of convictions to his name. The room was grey, drab and far too hot for the time of year.
Ridley closed the door and sat down. ‘What can I do for you, Gary?’
‘Nice to see you, too, Mr Ridley.’
Ridley took out his cigarettes and offered Bancroft one. ‘I haven’t got time for this.’ What he wasn’t going to tell Bancroft was that they’d just found a nine year old boy in Beverley Beck. Some poor bastard was going to have to tell his family the news.
‘I’m in deep shit this time, Don.’
Ridley glanced down at the paperwork he had. ‘I agree. It’s looking like prison time to me.’
Bancroft shuffled forward. ‘Can you make it disappear?’
Ridley placed the charge sheet between them and leaned back. ‘It’s not that simple.’
‘Sure?’
‘How’s your brother? Behaving himself better than you?’
‘I thought we could speak about Andrew.’
Ridley leaned forward. ‘Go on.’
‘Can you help get me out of here?’
Ridley looked again at the piece of paper, this time more seriously. ‘It needs to be good.’
‘I’ve no time for our kid. Fuck him. You know he works for Frank Salford, right?’
Ridley said he did.
‘What do you want to know about their relationship?’
Ridley found Reg Holborn sat in the canteen. He was with two other detectives from CID. ‘Guess who I’ve got in custody,’ Ridley said.
Holborn answered. ‘Surprise me, Don.’
‘Gary Bancroft.’
Holborn took a moment before smiling. ‘So what, Don?’ He nodded to the detectives and told them to disappear.
Once they were alone, Ridley sat down. ‘Seems there’s been a falling out in the family.’
‘What’s that got to do with me?’
‘It’s got everything to do with you.’
Holborn told the others to leave them to it before leaning in closer and lowering his voice. ‘You’ve made your choice, Don, and I respect that, but keep your nose out of my business or we’re going to fall out.’ He stirred another sugar into his tea. ‘And we don’t want that, do we?’
Ridley shrugged. ‘He’s told me all about his brother working for Frank Salford.’
‘Frank’s a legitimate businessman. You know that as well as I do. He creates employment in this city of ours, and in case you hadn’t noticed, there aren’t many jobs about at the moment. This city needs entrepreneurs like him.’
‘You can do better than that.’
‘You know that’s the word from upon high. Mr Salford is a very generous donor to our benevolent fund, so I wouldn’t want you to go forgetting that in a hurry.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘Whatever, Don, but I’m advising you to think very carefully here. The boss isn’t going to be impressed with this carry on. You think you can come in here, in front of people, and start acting the cunt? You want to get your own house in order first before you come to me, issuing threats.’
‘Who’s issuing thre
ats?’
Holborn smiled. ‘Sounds like you are, Don. But like I said, sort yourself out first. You’re not whiter than white. Everyone knows you can’t keep your cock in your pants. You’re becoming an embarrassment.’ He relaxed in his chair and waved the other detectives back. ‘You go and tell Gary Bancroft you can’t help him, that things have gone too far for that. And then you can leave it with me. Can’t say fairer than that, can I?’ He stood up. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a murder inquiry to be working on.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I woke late, made myself coffee and buttered a slice of toast. I managed one mouthful before deciding I didn’t want it. I picked up my mug. The coffee tasted bitter. I threw the food into the kitchen bin and walked back to the living room and checked my mobile for messages. There was nothing from Niall. There was nothing from Connor, either. I’d let my nephew down. I hadn’t protected him as I should have done. I felt like shit.
I picked my mobile up and scrolled through for Sarah’s number, and after debating with myself for a moment, I called her. Something Coleman had said in the pub had touched a nerve with me.
‘How’s it going?’ I said when she answered.
‘Don’t ask.’
I could hear empty bottles being thrown out in the background. ‘You’re at work?’
‘Just started.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘Niall’s in a mood with himself. He won’t talk about it.’
I walked over to the window. ‘Spoken to your dad?’
‘Last night.’
‘How is he?’
She sighed. ‘Still unwilling to talk to me, even though I’m his daughter.’
I was sure Don wouldn’t tell us anything, but something would bring the situation to a head, and whatever it was, he seemed determined to face it alone. I had to follow the trail to Gary Bancroft. I heard my brother swear in the background. I was glad of the distraction. It saved me having to answer difficult questions about Don and what I knew.
The Crooked Beat Page 11