‘You didn’t say you knew he had one.’
‘Coleman told me.’
‘Why didn’t you let me know?’
I was about to explain, but she waved my explanation away.
‘What did you find out?’ she said.
‘Andrew Bancroft’s been missing for almost thirty years.’
‘What does missing mean?’
‘He worked for Frank Salford.’ I didn’t need to say any more. What I didn’t know was how Don fitted in, but there was something there to be found. ‘It’s all speculation and guesswork,’ I said. ‘Especially if your dad won’t talk about it.’
‘But he’s involved somewhere.’
It was a statement rather than a question. ‘It seems likely.’
She softened. ‘I’m worried about him, Joe.’
I didn’t know what to say to that. There was nothing I could say that would make it sound any better.
‘Tell me what’s going on, Joe.’
‘I just did.’
Sarah walked across the room. ‘The truth,’ she said. ‘What’s going on with my dad? I know he’s in trouble and I know the two of you aren’t telling me everything.’
Over the years we’d become close friends, even if nothing else was going to happen between us. She knew me better than I knew myself. Yet I was still prepared to lie to her. Or at least shield her from the truth as best I could. ‘I’m still trying to put it together.’ It only felt like a small lie.
‘You can do better than that, Joe.’
She was right. It was no answer. I was making excuses for Don, but it wasn’t my place to tell her what I knew. I stood, ready to go. ‘You need to speak to your dad.’
It felt like I had a jigsaw puzzle in front of me, but none of the pieces would fit into the right place. I watched from the pavement as Sarah closed her curtains. It felt like I’d let her down. It broke my heart to admit it, but I had to put it to one side, even if it had cost me the one person willing to help. I took my mobile out and called Coleman again. He answered quickly. ‘We need to talk,’ I said. ‘The old office in about twenty minutes?’ It was the first place I’d thought of.
I parked my car next to Holy Trinity and walked the short distance to the office. Coleman was waiting outside for me. He put his mobile back in his pocket as he saw me approach. ‘Just about to ring you.’
I walked straight past him and unlocked. He followed me in. I flicked the light switch on.
‘Someone’s been busy,’ Coleman said, as he looked around the empty room.
There were no chairs left. It was empty. I settled for leaning against the window with my hands in my pocket, ignoring his remark.
‘What’s the plan, then, Joe? Set up and go it alone? Isn’t that how you Private Investigators should operate? Lone wolves?’
‘We’ll see.’ I told him about Niall’s bar and that I couldn’t see myself doing the same. Sinking my money into a new business like that wasn’t me. Maybe Coleman was on the right track. This was what I did. This kind of thing was me. ‘They were taking the piss at Queens Gardens when I asked to speak to you.’
Coleman continued to pace the room. ‘On the desk?’
‘Asked if we’d had a lovers tiff.’
Coleman smiled. ‘Fuck them.’
‘Pretty much what I thought.’ I told him I’d spoken with Gary Bancroft.
‘Good.’
‘I tracked him down to a pub on Wincolmlee. He seems to be one of life’s drinkers.’ Coleman was giving nothing away, so I continued. ‘I know his brother hasn’t been seen for pretty much thirty years.’ He was still giving me nothing. ‘I spoke to his mum about it. Poor woman’s still in pieces.’
Coleman stopped pacing the room. ‘What else?’
It was as if I had to give him the golden piece of information, the one thing which would trigger him into giving me something back. I took a deep breath and controlled myself. Losing patience wouldn’t do me any good. ‘I know Don was involved in the investigation to find Andrew Bancroft, and by all accounts he took it a lot more seriously than his colleagues.’
‘But he didn’t get very far?’
‘Don certainly won’t speak about it, but I know Andrew Bancroft was working for Frank Salford.’
‘Correct.’
I pushed myself upright and walked across to Coleman. ‘Cards on the table?’
Coleman agreed. ‘Cards on the table.’
‘I’ve got a problem with George Sutherland.’
‘Doesn’t surprise me, Joe.’
He could see I was surprised by that. He held his hands up. ‘A lot of people have a problem with Sutherland. Want to tell me about it?’
I shook my head. ‘Not really.’
‘I’ll buy you a drink,’ he said. ‘But let’s do it somewhere more comfortable.’
We walked across Lowgate to Silver Street and headed in the direction of Ye Olde White Harte. Coleman bought the drinks and we found a quiet corner. The pub was famous for being the place in 1642 where it was resolved that the King wouldn’t be allowed access to the city, triggering the English Civil War. Tonight wasn’t going to be quite so momentous, but it felt like an appropriate place to be sitting. I didn’t touch my drink. I wanted to hear what he had to say.
Coleman picked his drink up and drank a mouthful. He didn’t take his eyes off me. I waited it out. He put his drink down. ‘Can I trust you, Joe?’
I had no idea what the right answer to the question was. We did different jobs and often we were on different sides of the line. I wasn’t going to forget that. ‘You’re going to have to spit out whatever’s on your mind.’
‘I’ve been speaking to Dave Johnson,’ he said.
It felt like the room had started to spin. My stomach lurched. It was a name I never wanted to hear again.
‘He wants out of prison,’ Coleman said. ‘He’s realised that as things stand, he’s going to die behind bars.’
‘Good.’ Dave Johnson had been Frank Salford’s right-hand man. Salford had died, but Johnson hadn’t been so lucky. Although Dave Johnson wasn’t the man who’d set fire to the house my wife had died in, it had been done on his orders, and that made him responsible in my eyes. I took a moment to compose myself.
Coleman took another mouthful of his drink. ‘I know it’s hard for you.’
I leaned forwards. ‘You know it’s hard for me? Are you taking the piss?’
Coleman shook his head. ‘I’m not taking the piss.’
I looked down at my drink. He’d bought me a coke. ‘I need a proper drink.’ The car could stay where it was. I needed to buy myself some time to think. I returned from the bar and sat back down. ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘Johnson contacted me. He thinks he’s got information I might be interested in.’
‘Only thinks?’
‘More a hint of information to come.’
‘And you’ve brought me out here to tell me that?’
‘It’s a difficult situation to handle.’
I’d heard enough. I stood up, ready to leave. ‘You can fuck off.’
‘Sit down, Joe.’
I headed for the exit. Coleman followed me. I headed through the alleyway and back to Silver Street. I walked towards Whitefriargate, heading in the direction of the Market Square and Holy Trinity. I was on autopilot. Coleman matched my stride. He grabbed my arm and told me calm down. I spun round and forced him against the doors of the indoor market. ‘Don’t tell me what to do.’ The heavy doors rattled as he struggled until I released my grip. We were toe to toe, staring at each other.
It was Coleman who spoke first. He was perfectly calm. ‘Johnson won’t talk until there’s a deal on the table.’
I shook my head and continued to walk. Coleman wouldn’t leave it and was again by my side. I stopped and turned to face him. ‘What is on the table, out of interest?’
‘That depends if the information he’s giving me is any good.’
‘Why does that concern me?’
‘It’s not official yet.’
‘Fuck’s sake.’ I walked over to the benches in front of the church and sat down. Coleman followed and did the same. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Neither of us spoke for a moment.
‘I need someone to check his story out,’ Coleman eventually said.
‘No chance.’
‘Hear me out, Joe.’
I assumed my world was about to get an awful lot worse.
‘Andrew Bancroft,’ Coleman said. ‘Johnson gave me his name.’
‘What about him?’
‘Johnson won’t say specifically. He mentioned George Sutherland. He was involved, too.’
‘For definite?’
‘Stands to reason given the Salford link. I know it’s not easy for you, Joe, but have a think about it.’ Coleman stood up and looked down at me. ‘I’ll be talking to Johnson tomorrow. If you want, you can come along and see what he has to say.’
I watched Coleman walk away from me. It was a big ask. I paced around, angry with Coleman for bringing it all back. I knew the feeling of loss had never left me and never would, but knowing Johnson was behind bars and Salford was dead gave me some measure of satisfaction. I found myself walking up to the doors of the church. I had no idea why. I certainly wasn’t a religious man. The church was lit up by a series of lights around the courtyard. I could only stare in awe at the building, like with the Humber Bridge, even though they couldn’t be more different structures. The spell was broken by the sound of a drunk being sick on the street corner. His mates cheered him on. I walked back to the benches, sat down and tried to make a decision.
The deal on the table from Coleman was clear. He was offering me a line into George Sutherland. I watched as the man who’d been sick was carried away by his mates. He’d have a hangover in the morning, but nothing more serious. My problems weren’t so easily resolved. I had no better plan for removing Sutherland.
The bench was cold and uncomfortable, but I wasn’t ready to move. I was pretty sure I had a handle on Coleman’s motives. He was yet to be confirmed as a DI, so he was no doubt looking for a final push over the line, the one case that could confirm his promotion. It appeared he was talking to Johnson off the record, and it made sense that Johnson had some serious stories to tell. But even a careerist like Coleman wouldn’t risk turning a man like Johnson free unless there was something there. Maybe I was being used. Maybe this was Coleman’s way of proving he had some worth after his wife had left him and it would be a pointless exercise. The ultimate irony of the situation was that to help my brother and Don, I had to help the man who was responsible for my wife’s death.
Connor was waiting for me in my flat, drinking a bottle of beer and looking sorry for himself. At least he’d done as he was told and stayed in.
He looked up at me. ‘How’s it going?’
I took my coat off and threw it in the corner. ‘Get me a beer, please.’
Connor went to the fridge and passed me one over. I opened it and drank from the bottle. I walked over to the front window and stared out on to the street. My reflection in the glass stared back at me. I turned away and sat down.
‘Are you hungry?’ Connor asked me. ‘I was about to order a takeaway.’
I shook my head. ‘Not especially.’
He ordered food and we both sat down in silence. I watched him fidget with his mobile. ‘What’s on your mind?’
‘I was curious, really,’ he said.
‘What about?’
‘Did you get on with your dad?’
There was a question. I thought about it before answering. ‘Maybe not as well as I should have.’
‘Didn’t the rugby make it easier?’
‘Rugby was the problem.’
‘You wanted to be like him?’
I shook my head. ‘Not really. All I wanted was to play, but he knew what a toll it took on your body and how hard it was to combine it with a proper job. He didn’t want me following him down the same road. He wanted better for me, but I couldn’t see it at the time.’
Connor smiled and took a drag on his bottle of beer. ‘Sounds familiar. Did you fall out with him?’
‘A little bit, I suppose.’
‘After the injury?’
What he was really asking me was what happened after I’d failed, after my dad had been proved right. I wasn’t going to lie. ‘We argued,’ I said. ‘I worked in his pub for a bit, but it wasn’t for me. I couldn’t handle people coming in on their way to the match, reminiscing about the good old days with him. All that stuff. It brought back bad memories, and to be totally honest, it was starting to make me bitter.’
‘How did you patch it up, then?’
I turned to face Connor. I wanted to make sure he got the message loud and clear. ‘We never really patched it up all that well. That’s my biggest regret.’
Connor nodded, like he understood. ‘So how do you go about patching things up?’
I offered my bottle up for a toast. ‘That’s the question you’ve got to figure out an answer to. The only way you can convince your dad about the night club stuff is to go out and make it work. Make it a success. Prove to him that it can be done.’
The buzzer to my flat interrupted us.
‘The food.’ Connor said.
‘I’ll get it.’ I walked down the stairs and opened the front door to the delivery driver. George Sutherland threw a bag of hot food at me.
‘Bumped into the guy at your door. Thought I’d save him the trouble.’ He pointed to his car. ‘Get in.’
Carl Palmer stood behind him, smiling at me. I weighed up the situation. The odds were stacked against me and Connor was upstairs. I didn’t want him involved. I followed Sutherland and Palmer out of the building. Palmer drove with Sutherland next to me in the back.
‘I was up your end of town,’ Sutherland said. ‘I thought we’d go for a drive.’
The journey passed in silence until Palmer pulled up down North Road and stopped outside what had once been the South Stand entrance to Boothferry Park, former home of Hull City AFC. It was now a building site.
Sutherland stared out of the window at the construction work. ‘It’s a fucking disgrace. I had some of the best days of my life here. Now it’s going to be fucking houses.’
I didn’t say anything. Like with the rugby, time moves on. He continued talking, like I was his mate. I didn’t like it.
‘I remember when Chelsea played here in the Cup, back when it meant something. Me and Frank on the rampage down in London for the first time, even though we were only teenagers. Great day. Two goals for Waggy, as per fucking usual. Showed them cunts how it’s done. Shame we didn’t finish the job when we got back here, though.’
‘Not really my game,’ I told him.
‘I forgot you were an egg-chaser.’
‘My dad went to both games.’
Sutherland shuffled around in his seat to stare at me. ‘I thought he was a rugby man, too?’
‘It was a big match.’
Sutherland opened the door and got out. ‘Take a walk with me. My mate’s the site foreman. I’ve borrowed the key off him.’
Palmer was smiling at me though the rear view mirror. I got out and followed Sutherland. He was already opening up the gate to the site. An icy wind blew around the open spaces of the building site, cutting straight through me. Sutherland beckoned me forward. Palmer had locked the car and was standing behind me. No one else was around. I did as I was told and walked into the building site. My shoes sunk down in the mud. Sutherland shouted at me to keep up. Palmer had closed the gate behind us. It was dark, but my eyes slowly adjusted and I followed Sutherland out into the site, leaving the completed houses behind. He came to a stop in the middle of some new plots.
‘Just digging the foundations,’ he said. ‘Funny how weird places like this are when the machines are switched off and no one’s around.’ He pointed to the plot we were standing next to. ‘Amazing how deep they are these days.’
> He was fucking with me and I wasn’t in the mood. ‘What’s your point?’
He took an envelope out of his pocket. ‘Have a look.’
I took it from him. Inside was a printout with details of the overnight Hull to Zeebrugge ferry.
‘Cat got your tongue, Geraghty? You’ve had your chance to put the situation right and you haven’t done it, so here’s what’s going to happen. You and that brother of yours are going across to pick up some more cigarettes for me. You’re going to drive a van over, load it up and drive it back again.’
I said nothing. If it went wrong, it meant serious prison time. Sutherland was an idiot, but I didn’t have a better plan.
‘What precautions have you taken?’
He laughed. ‘I’ve got you driving the van.’
‘You got the last lot through. You don’t need me.’
Sutherland ignored my protests. ‘You’re doing it. I’ll be having a word with Peter Hill. That cunt owes me, too.'
Sutherland was desperate if he was prepared to go over with effectively no insurance policy. We were going to be winging it. He plan was madness. ‘I’m not doing it.’
Palmer and Sutherland both took a step towards me. ‘Give me my money, then,’ Sutherland said.
He knew I didn’t have it. I held his stare before eventually conceding with a nod.
Sutherland smiled. ‘We’ll be in touch, then.’
I was left to walk back to my flat. Connor was sitting in the living room.
‘Where did you go?’ he said.
‘George Sutherland wanted a word.’
He stood up and walked around the room, clearly scared by what had happened. I took the bottle of beer he was drinking from and swallowed a mouthful. ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s going to get sorted.’
He sat back down, but didn’t speak. I told him he should go to his girlfriend’s house if he wanted. He was glad to get away. I stared at the printout Sutherland had given me before putting it to one side. I hadn’t been on a ferry for years. I had no idea how stringent the security was. I had no idea what would be waiting in Belgium. I switched the lights off and sat in the darkened room and came to a decision. I took my mobile out of my pocket and sent a text message to Coleman. I had no intention of getting on a ferry to collect cigarettes on Sutherland’s behalf. Whatever Coleman’s plan involved, I was in.
The Crooked Beat Page 14