Lies That Blind

by Tony Hutchinson

  Are you starting to wobble you cocky twat?

  ‘Fancy dress costume?’ Pullman nodding now, eyebrows pinched in concentration. ‘Come to think of it I did wear one of those suits but that was months ago. Left it at Tara’s. Forgot about it to tell you the truth. Is that what this is about? A fucking fancy dress costume?’

  Ed stood up, reached into an overhead locker, and took out a pack of stem ginger biscuits.

  ‘Want one?’ he held out the packet.

  ‘No thanks.’

  Ed sat back down, dunked the biscuit in his coffee.

  ‘Well good luck standing in the dock running that gem to get you off the hook,’ he said. ‘Even juries aren’t that daft.’

  They sat staring at each other through the door.

  Ed bit into the softened biscuit.

  Harry was first to speak.

  ‘This won’t get to court. You should know that better than most. You’ve been getting away with it for years. Avoiding court, I mean.’

  Ed said nothing, stared at Pullman over the rim of his mug.

  ‘You mentioned a suicide pact when I called you,’ Pullman changing tack. ‘What’s that all about?

  ‘Finish your coffee and then we can both be on our way,’ Ed told him ‘I’ve got enough of my own shit without taking yours. You take your chances with Parker.’

  He dunked the biscuit again. ‘And good luck with that as well. She’ll have you done up like a kipper.’

  ‘How do I know you’re not working for the Skinners?’ Pullman asked.

  ‘If you thought that you wouldn’t have come.’

  ‘Maybe, but who are you working for? You must have been working for somebody? And if it’s not them, who?’

  Ed said nothing, held Pullman’s gaze.

  ‘Ray Reynolds always thought there was something dodgy about you,’ Pullman was fishing. ‘And that Brian Banks.’

  Ed smiled.

  ‘So, what do you want?’ Pullman asked.

  ‘That depends on you, but make no mistake, where you are now is right in the shit.’

  Pullman leaned his head into the van.

  ‘You still haven’t told me what you want?’

  Ed knew it was the right time.

  ‘Ok Harry, we’ve known each other for years so cards on the table. I’m suspended but any investigation will take years and they’ll still find nothing.’

  Ed paused, let those words hover.

  ‘Then I’ll retire. But in the meantime, I don’t want to be hanging around here. I may as well wait in the sun.’

  ‘And you want what from me exactly?’

  Ed laughed. ‘I want fuck all from you. I’m not the one going to prison for multiple murder.’

  ‘Neither am I,’ Pullman growled. ‘And you fucking know it.’.

  Ed sat back, laced his hands behind his head and grinned.

  ‘Well if you want to make sure that stays the case it’s a matter of what I can do for you, and more importantly, how much you’re willing to pay for your liberty.’

  Chapter 36

  Bev and Tara ordered the full Lakeland breakfast.

  Other guests were already eating, rucksacks by the door, ready for the next leg of the coast-to-coast.

  Bev had warned Tara to speak about nothing other than the weather, the scenery, or general chit-chat.

  They had each said ‘good morning’ to the others in the room before they took their seats.

  The friendly waitress gave them a pot of tea, returning not long after with their food.

  Apart from banalities about the chances of rain – high – they ate in silence and watched the hikers hurry into waterproofs, keen to make a start.

  Bev shook her head, voice barely audible. ‘Why?’

  ‘What?’ Tara whispered, looking around.

  ‘Why would you walk from one side of the country to the other? Bev said. ‘I honestly don’t get it.’

  Tara shrugged, watched the last of the hikers load up and head out.

  ‘Loads of reasons I imagine… sense of achievement, test yourself against the elements, enjoy the scenery.’

  Bev cut into her poached egg. ‘Plenty of roads if you want to see the countryside. Just drive for God’s sake. Anyway, once you’ve seen one hill, you’ve seen them all.’

  They finished their breakfast in silence.

  They walked across the road towards the car park and picnic tables, the black sky casting a shadow over everything underneath it.

  ‘I’m just popping into the shop,’ Tara said, emerging soon after with cigarettes and one of Alfred Wainwright’s legendary guidebooks.

  Minutes later they had both lit up and were watching a Mazda MX5 drive past.

  ‘One of my old boyfriends used to have one of them,’ Tara smiled. ‘You ever had sex in a two-seater?’

  ‘Can’t say I have,’ Bev thought about the logistics, doubted she was supple enough these days.

  ‘The man used to say you couldn’t beat sex in a convertible.’

  ‘The man?’

  Tara exhaled. ‘My ex.’

  Did she call every male ‘the man’?

  Bev stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray. ‘Right, finish up and then we can crack on.’

  She fished the ringing mobile out of her coat pocket, not daring to move in case she lost the signal.

  ‘Hi Sam. Yeah we’re just about ready to start. We’re both outside having a smoke. Just finished a cracking full English.’

  Sam would realise Bev wasn’t alone.

  Bev listened as Sam brought her up to date with all developments including the murder of the Skinners, the last call to Skinner referring to the ‘Reverend’ being killed, ‘Pugsley’s unknown status, and the mention of the ‘source.’

  Across the road Tara was watching a hawk hovering above a stone-walled field.

  Bev agreed with Sam that ‘Pugsley’ was probably code for Paul Adams.

  ‘But what about the ‘Reverend’?’ Sam said.

  ‘That’ll be Green.’

  ‘Scott Green?’

  Bev lit another cigarette, laughed. ‘You know all about posh wines and yachts but you don’t know Cluedo? Reverend Green’s one of the characters…you know…it was Reverend Green in the library with the candlestick. A classic.’

  ‘Jesus I’m so wide of the mark at times,’ Sam said, squashing her embarrassment. ‘Cheers Bev.’

  Sam took a deep breath. ‘Ed was always good at the cryptic stuff,’ she said, Ed washing into her mind. ‘If he was here he might have worked out who Skinner’s ‘source’ was.’

  There was a moment’s silence before Bev spoke. ‘I couldn’t get Ed out of my mind last night. Couldn’t get to sleep for thinking about him.’

  ‘We’ll just have to see what happens. No point in trying to second guess. I’ll have to crack on Bev.’

  Bev got the message. Sam wasn’t getting involved in any speculation.

  ‘No bother boss.’

  Bev smoked her cigarette and wondered whether Sam knew more than she was letting on.

  Cigarette finished she called to Tara, who walked back across the road.

  ‘Missing your boyfriend then?’ Tara said, chewing on a piece of Kendall Mint Cake she had bought in the shop.

  Bev snapped her head towards Tara. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You said you couldn’t get to sleep for thinking about him. You shagging Whelan?’

  Bev hadn’t realised Tara could hear her from the other side of the road. But what was there to make noise in this wilderness?

  Shit!

  ‘No I’m not,’ Bev said. ‘And didn’t anyone tell you it’s bloody rude to listen to private conversations?’

  ‘Couldn’t help it could I,’ Tara grinned. ‘Not exactly buzzing with noise round here. Who was on the phone? Nosey?’

  ‘Who?’ Bev asked.

  ‘Parker. Nosey Parker.’

  Bev pushed open the pub door, stopped in the small vestibule, turned and glared at Tara.

  ‘Show s
ome respect. She’s the one who’s trying to save your neck.’

  ‘Alright, keep your hair on,’ Tara at least looked guilty. ‘Everybody’s got a nickname.’

  ‘Do they?’

  They walked into the pub.

  ‘What’s mine?’ Bev asked.

  ‘I don’t know, but you’ll have one.’

  ‘What’s yours?’

  Tara ran the tip of her tongue around her lips. ‘Whatever they want it to be.’

  ‘And Harry Pullman’s?’ Bev asked, smiling at two women helping each other with their backpacks.

  ‘Sauce,’ Tara said.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Sauce.’

  Bev’s face was a blank as Tara shook her head.

  ‘Keep up with the programme. Harry Pullman. HP. HP sauce!’

  Chapter 37

  Sam made do with coffee and a cigarette, envious of Bev and her cooked breakfast.

  She blew smoke upwards, aware of how much there was to get through today. Bev would get a full, comprehensive statement from Tara but they’d need plenty of corroboration.

  She perched herself on a stool at the kitchen island, tapped ash into the glass ashtray.

  The next few days would be difficult enough, but being without Ed, her ‘sounding board’ and the person whose opinion she valued above all others, would increase the degree of difficulty.

  She moved to the kettle, flicked it on.

  ‘Sounding boards’ and ‘degrees of difficulty’ reminded her of Olympic divers. Whatever she was diving into she had to do it without Ed, and as much as she worried about him, she couldn’t afford to get distracted.

  She made another cup of coffee as she finished her cigarette, watching the smoke and steam curl upwards.

  Placing the mug on the island she sat back down and began jotting things down on a pad.

  The forensics from the scene would take their course. She’d already told Julie Trescothick the priorities.

  She needed someone to visit Lester Stephenson. Was his visit just a badly-timed need for Tara’s sexual services, or was there a more sinister reason?

  The decision was who to send now Ed was out of the picture.

  She took one final drag of the cigarette and stubbed it out.

  Not Russ Chaddick. God she couldn’t stand him. The sooner she got him off the investigation the better. He was negative to the point of being poison. What did Ed used to say? Negativity is like a cancer. Stop it before it spreads, cut it out like a tumour.

  She put the pen down, held the mug to her lips with both hands.

  She would visit Paul Adams’ wife. If Tara was right and it was Paul who was tipping off the Skinners on Harry’s location, how had Paul got the information in the first place?

  Bev’s last call was interesting.

  If Luke Skinner had been talking about the ‘sauce’ not ‘source’ then the Skinners wanted Harry Pullman dead. She got that.

  But in retaliation could Harry Pullman really organise a series of targeted killings and then take out everybody connected with them.

  She put the mug down, wrote ‘Tara’ on the pad.

  If she’d dropped him in York as she said, how had he got back to Portsmouth so quickly? Did he meet someone in York who drove him back? Did they have time to drive back?

  Sam wrote ‘danger?’ next to Tara’s name, circling it to the point that the pen almost penetrated the paper.

  She stood up and paced the kitchen. Pacing helped her think. It had since her days at Durham University.

  Why had no police officers at Malvern Close or the surrounding area seen Harry Pullman?

  Had he been hiding in the loft? Had he made the noise she’d heard?

  She understood why Pullman couldn’t risk taking the rabbit suit with him when he left Tara’s. If he was stopped and checked by the police, he would be straight down the station. But what if Harry Pullman was never there? What if someone else was in the loft? What if Harry Pullman was as much a patsy as Zac Williams?

  She called Julie Trescothick and told her how to progress the unidentified DNA profile on the second rabbit suit.

  Harry Pullman was back in his seat inside ‘Doris’ drinking his second cup of coffee.

  ‘So you’re saying you want me to pay for you to swan around in the sun somewhere?’

  ‘I’m not saying that at all,’ Ed was standing by the sliding door. ‘What I’m saying is that I’ll wait out my suspension abroad.’

  ‘And what would be in it for your’s truly,’ Pullman interested now. ‘How can you help me, if of course I need and want your help.’

  ‘I’ve told you. Sam Parker’s got Tara.’

  ‘And I’ve told you she’s just a lying tart.’

  ‘A lying tart living in your house.’

  Pullman put the mug on the table.

  ‘Making me easier to set up,’ he said. ‘The Skinners will do whatever it takes to stop me going to court and in case you forgot, she used to work for them.’

  ‘She’d dispute that. We’ve got a -’

  ‘Stop saying ‘we’,’ Harry snapped. ‘You’re not in their gang any more.’

  Ed ignored the slur and carried on.

  ‘The rabbit suit from the loft. If you’ve worn that, your DNA will be all over the inside.’

  ‘I wore it ages ago. I told you that…hang fire.’

  Harry Pullman picked up his mobile, scrolled through the photos and smiled as he passed the phone to Ed.

  ‘There you go.’

  Ed took it.

  The first photograph showed someone wearing a full white rabbit costume, which could have been anybody.

  Ed flicked onto the second photograph; Harry in the white suit holding the rabbit head.

  ‘Accounts for my DNA being in one if that’s what your tests show and unless I’m mistaken, you can’t date DNA.’

  Pullman slurped on the coffee before continuing. ‘No way you can say how long it’s been there, so you’ve got nothing.’

  Ed stepped inside from the doorway.

  ‘So none of this has anything to do with you then?’

  ‘Absolutely not. How many more times?’

  Ed sat down.

  ‘Bollocks…but if that’s your attitude you may as well head home. By the time you get there Sam Parker will have a team waiting to lock you up. Take your chances at court. Your DNA, Tara’s evidence…’

  Pullman set down his mug and shrugged.

  ‘DNA you can’t date and the word of a prostitute who’s probably on the payroll of a crime family. I’m shitting it.’

  Pullman stood up. ‘I’ll be on my way then. It’ll be a pleasure watching you go down. Bent as a nine-bob note Whelan.’

  Pullman stepped outside the van.

  ‘Sam Parker’s not just investigating the shootings,’ Ed said.

  Pullman hesitated, stopped and put his head back in the van. ‘I’m pleased for her.’

  ‘She’s also looking at four suicides which she believes are murders and the finger’s pointing one way. Towards you.’

  ‘Is she on glue?’ Pullman said, stepping back into the van. ‘Who am I, the big cheese coordinating everything, killing people all over the place?’

  Pullman sat down. ‘For fuck sake why would I do that?’

  ‘Takeover bid.’

  Pullman laughed. ‘Take over from the Skinners? At my age? I just want a quiet life living somewhere with a new identity and a few quid in my pocket. I’m not going back to Seaton St George. Ever!’

  Ed took out his mobile and scrolled through his photos.

  ‘Do you know him?’

  He handed Pullman his phone.

  ‘Should I?’

  ‘Just wondered.’

  Harry held the phone closer to his face.

  ‘Is that Tara’s house?’

  ‘Well it’s where she lives. It’s your house remember.’

  ‘When was this taken?’

  ‘Nothing to do with you.’

  Pullman handed the
phone back to Ed.

  ‘I know him. Well, know of him. Only met him the once.’

  ‘And?’

  Pullman grinned. ‘He’s an accountant. Retired now but still does a bit part time. Boring as fuck.’

  ‘Aren’t they all?’

  ‘Not as boring as this old fart. I met him once. Spoke about his wife, kids, grandkids non-stop. Twenty minutes of my life I’ll never get back. Showed me a picture of them all on his phone. Pack of in-breds, all ugly as fuck, especially the wife.’

  Pullman scrunched his nose, wincing at the memory. ‘I wouldn’t touch her with yours.’

  ‘Where were you talking to him?’

  ‘Some party. As soon as I introduced him to Tara he forgot about his wife. Dribbling all over her he was. Dirty old bastard must have got her number.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Do you remember the names of the boring bastards you meet?’

  Ed shrugged his shoulders. ‘I remembered yours.’

  ‘Fuckin’ comedian now,’ Harry scowled. ‘When was that photo taken? Before or after the shootings?’

  ‘It’s irrelevant.’

  ‘Might not be. Especially when I tell you who his only client was…maybe still is.’

  Ed knew who he was. He wanted to test Pullman. Make sure he was telling the truth.

  Chapter 38

  Sam walked into the briefing room, the assembled crews with their backs to her. Unfortunately for Detective Sergeant Russ Chaddick there was a lull in the conversations when he said Ed Whelan was a dinosaur who should have gone years ago.

  Sam’s raised voice had heads jerking over shoulders.

  ‘You couldn’t lace his boots,’ she said, eyes following her as she walked to the front of the room.

  She wanted to eyeball Chaddick but as he had found something riveting on the floor, she glared at the thinning hair on the top of his head.’

  ‘I told you all I didn’t want to hear any speculation about Ed. I certainly don’t want to hear people slagging him off when the reasons for his suspension aren’t known and he’s not here to defend himself.’

  Chaddick kept his eyes on the floor in the silence.

  ‘Right, we’ve got plenty to do today and time is short. Russ, would you mind waiting outside please.’