“See! I knew you were familiar with the name. Why don’t you just come clean, Harry? We can’t go on tiptoeing around this — or each other. We’ve a case to solve, we’re getting nowhere and meanwhile you clam up on me.”
Jess was annoyed. She’d had enough of Harry’s secrecy. One way or another she would find out what he was hiding. He knew it too, so why not just tell her?
“Another time, Jess, promise. But I’m not up to discussing McBain right now.”
“His cohorts, or enemies then. D’you know who they are? Do you have any clue at all about who is behind this?”
“Possibly, but I hope to God I’m wrong. The man I have in mind is toxic and if this is down to him, we’re really in trouble.”
Chapter Twenty-three
When they got back to the office, Harry muttered something about needing air and went off for a walk round the town to clear his head. Jess took advantage of his absence to contact the Glasgow force and ask about Callum McBain. The man she spoke to, a DI Gregor Laing, was only too willing to help. He had such a strong Glaswegian accent that she had trouble understanding him. The DI remembered Harry Lennox very well.
“He was my DS for a while, a few years ago now,” he said. “Pleasant young man, tipped to go far, but that case really messed with his life. I suppose he’s told you all about it.”
“A little,” she lied, “It was a shame what happened.” If she admitted to this man that Harry hadn’t told her anything, he might wonder why.
“A shame? What happened was a bloody tragedy. I’m not surprised he had to get away. Anyway, why are you asking about McBain now?” he said.
“His name has come up in one of our enquiries,” Jess told him. “We believe he’s been murdered by an unknown killer we’re looking for.”
“Harry know?”
“Yes, and I don’t think he’s taking it well. He threw up when McBain was mentioned.”
“I’m not surprised. That was some experience and it must have left its mark. Give him my best, will you? He’s a good lad. I hope what happened didn’t damage his life too much.”
Interesting, but it didn’t tell her much. Jess was tempted to ask more but thought it might reveal her ignorance of what happened. “We think someone known to him has bought a local clothing manufacturing business, but we have no idea why.”
“McBain and the people he mixed with were into drugs, girls, money-laundering and various other scams, but never clothing.” He paused. “Surely Harry has told you about McBain, about the gangs and the rivalry”
How to answer that one? Jess finally decided the truth was best. “No. I was hoping you could help me.”
Another pause. “Harry’s not said anything at all, has he? I’d say ask him, but I can imagine the reaction you’d get.”
“Could you give me a name, or any other information that will help us?”
“I’ll give you a name, but you do not repeat it to Harry, understood? He has to be the one to bring it up. Do you agree?”
“Yes.”
“Mungo Salton,” he almost whispered. “Callum McBain ran a gang in Glasgow. His biggest rival was Salton. The pair kept the force on their toes, I can tell you. With McBain dead that leaves Salton with the patch all to himself. That is some opportunity and he’s sure to make the most of it. The problem we have is that currently he’s nowhere to be found. Word round here is that Salton has taken off, but we don’t know where. He could surface anywhere, anytime. This enquiry of yours, that’s how you know McBain is dead?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’d say you have a problem. Let’s hope Salton doesn’t surface near you, for Harry’s sake.”
“Why haven’t you got the man locked up if he’s so dangerous?”
“He’s tricky, knows the law. Whenever a case against him gets to court, he hires the best, pays people off and makes it all go away. I’m sure you know villains like that. We’ve even had him banged up, but he’s a model prisoner. As far as we know, he’s not put a foot wrong since he was last released. He may be your man. I just hope I’m wrong because Harry couldn’t take crossing swords with him again.”
“Thanks. That gives me some background,” Jess said.
“A word of warning, hen. If Salton is active again and on your patch, don’t let Harry get near him. Dangerous doesn’t cover it — the man’s an animal. He won’t think twice about putting a bullet in his head.”
“And knowing that, you still haven’t been able to put him behind bars?” Jess said.
“So far we’ve only got him on minor stuff, and he’s done months or a couple of years. We know he’s killed folk, but the proof has always eluded us. He’s evil, bad to the core and Harry hates him, so watch he doesn’t take risks. He’ll be tempted to have a go after what happened to his brother.”
His brother? This was news. Harry had never mentioned any brother. In the two years she’d worked with him, he hadn’t said a word.
“I didn’t know about him,” she said. She was hoping the admission would lead DI Laing to tell her more, but it simply angered him.
“He really hasn’t told you anything, has he? You’re pumping me for information because Harry won’t tell you. It won’t work, hen, not with me. Harry obviously has his reasons for keeping what happened out of his new life and I’ve got to respect that.”
“Sorry. It was stupid of me. But I’m genuinely worried about him, and that’s why I called you. This is affecting his work, and you’ve no idea how he’s living or how much he drinks. Now I’m beginning to see why. He’s got a past and is trying hard to bury it, but it isn’t working. It’s just making him ill.”
“You could be right, but my advice is to leave it be. If Harry wants to talk, he will.”
“Okay. I just hope that one of these days he might trust me enough to tell me what happened before he crumbles completely. Thanks for your help.”
“I didn’t mean to bite your head off, lass. But Harry is a complicated person. He might appear all bluff good humour but that’s just an act to cover his real emotions. Believe me, the real Harry is quite different. And don’t forget to give him my best.”
Jess immediately turned to her computer, eager to do some research, look up Harry’s brother’s birth record for one, and find out what had become of him. Was he injured? Dead? And what did his fate have to do with McBain or Salton? But her questions remained unanswered. She got a call on the office phone from the desk sergeant. Jess could tell immediately that something had happened.
“The bodies of two men have been found,” he said. “The PC that stumbled on them suspects it’s Sutton and Marsh, although no formal identification has been done yet. I’ll give you the location.”
“Local?”
“Yes. D’you know the lorry park at the back of Shaw’s Haulage?”
“I know it. Were they left in the open?”
“No, they were in a container.” he sighed. “Happy days, eh. I’ll get the SOCOs on it.”
Jess had to find Harry, he should know at once. She put the notes from her conversation with DI Laing in her bag. She’d continue her research at home.
Chapter Twenty-four
McBain’s name and the memories it dredged up had put Harry in a foul mood. He strode unseeing around town and ended up in the park. He was sitting on a bench, thinking about the past when Jess’s call jolted him back to the present and his wretched life. She was right, he couldn’t continue like this. He’d have to deal with the past, face up to it, demons and all.
Harry didn’t say a word on their way to the haulage yard. Only when they had arrived and were making their way towards the group of white-suited SOCOs did he speak. “Do most of these vehicles and containers belong to Shaw’s Haulage?”
“I’ve no idea. I know as much as you do about the firm.”
“Yes, but you’ve lived round here all your life. I presumed you’d know these things,” he said abruptly.
“Don’t take your bad mood out on me, Harry Lennox. We a
ll have off days, but we don’t bring our moods to work with us. It’s called growing up.”
“I’m the senior officer here, remember. I think you forget that far too often.”
Jess strode out in front of him. “Well, sir, stuff you!”
Now he’d done it. He hadn’t meant to upset her. It was just that she happened to be the person nearest to him, so she always ended up as the butt of his bad moods. He constantly vented his frustration on poor Jess because he couldn’t deal with what was really bothering him.
He quickened his pace and caught up with her. “I’m sorry, I’m an idiot. It’s personal stuff that’s making me tetchy. It’s not your fault.”
“Too damn right it’s not,” she retorted. “You’ve got some nerve behaving the way you do. Why not just get whatever’s bothering you off your chest and then I can try to help.”
“You can’t help me, Jess, no one can.”
She strode off again. “Have it your own way.”
“This place,” he shouted after her. “Sure you know nothing about it?”
“I think it’s used by a few haulage firms.” She pointed to the signage on one or two of the doors. “But Shaw’s own the plot.”
“Are we okay?” he asked. “I didn’t intend to upset you, really. I just need to calm down.”
“Where did you get to? I rang your mobile several times but you didn’t pick up for ages.”
“Sorry, I went for a walk. I was trying to make sense of what we’re up against.”
“And did you?” she asked. “Clear your mind? Make sense of it all?”
“No. The personal stuff got in the way, so I’m still confused about the case. I’m hoping the forensics from this little lot will help.”
“That personal stuff must be a biggy. But if you insist on keeping it all bottled up, there’s not a lot I can do.”
Melanie Trent greeted them at the container doors. She didn’t look happy. “Whoever did this has done an excellent clean up job. The inside reeks of bleach, it’s so strong you can hardly breathe. They didn’t bother with the bodies though. I suspect they’ve been hosed down, but that’s it.”
“Is it them?” Jess asked.
Melanie handed them each a paper coverall from a pile beside her. “Get into these and see for yourselves. It’s not pretty. Both of them have been badly beaten, particularly about the face and head.”
“Who found them?” Harry asked.
“That driver over there. The container doors were blowing in the wind, so he came over to close them. Got one helluva shock.”
“Any attempt made to hide their identities?” Harry asked.
“Doesn’t look like it. Both are missing a left hand, but we can easily get prints from the right ones.”
“Are you up for this?” Harry asked Jess. “This is the least pleasant part of the job, and despite how you act, I know you’re no toughie.”
“I’ve seen a few dead bodies in my time,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. It’s you that’s got the dodgy guts and all the personal baggage, remember.”
Melanie Trent hadn’t been joking when she said it wasn’t pretty. It was one of the most harrowing murder scenes either detective had ever witnessed. The two men were naked, suspended by their right arms from a bar fixed into the roof of the container.
“Both have what at first sight appears to be a dislocated right shoulder joint, which makes me think they were hanging like that for some time while still alive. Must have hurt like hell.” Melanie grimaced. “I’ll know the extent of the damage and attempt an estimate of how long they were kept like that back at the morgue.”
“There are burn marks on the container wall here,” Hettie said. “They’ve had a good go at cleaning, but they obviously couldn’t get the marks off.”
“An attempt to prevent them from bleeding to death. This wasn’t just about killing this pair. Was it about punishment or did the killers want something from them, but what? Take the hands and cauterise the wounds, keep them going for a bit longer,” Harry said. “So, they must have used something for that. Any idea what?”
“A blow torch perhaps,” Melanie said. “Again, we’ll see what traces we find back at the lab.”
Harry took a closer look at the body of Nick Sutton. The stump from where his hand had been severed had definitely been burned, but it hadn’t been particularly well done, and it had still bled afterwards. Both men had extensive bruising over most of their bodies.
“Sutton was hit about the head with something hard. He’d have been out of it for some time. Marsh, on the other hand, only has superficial bruises on his face and head. But his body has been badly beaten. I’d say with a clublike instrument — a baseball bat would do it. What killed them both was gunshot wounds to the head. Both were shot at close range through the mouth, pointing upwards. A shotgun I’d say. There are large exit wounds at the top of their heads.”
“Any bullets?” asked Harry.
“Yes, we found these.” Hettie showed Harry an evidence bag containing some spent cartridges. “No attempt was made to hide them, they were left lying on the floor. Which is odd given how careful they’ve been about everything else.”
“Any chance of prints or DNA?” asked Jess.
“The whole place has been sluiced down, and liberal amounts of bleach were used. I doubt we’ll get anything useful.”
“Do Shaw’s have an office nearby?” Harry asked Jess.
“There’s a building at the back of that fence. We could try there.”
“We need a word with the owner. I want to know all about this container, who it belongs to and who used it last.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Roger Shaw ran the haulage firm with his father. Given what had happened, the office was closed for the day. But Shaw had been alerted by the police and was waiting for them.
“The business was started by my dad, but he’s more or less retired now,” he explained. “He only comes in a couple of times a month. I see to our own day-to-day work, and I also rent out space to other firms to park up their vehicles overnight or at weekends.” He checked his records. “That particular container came in four days ago from Glasgow. The lorry that transported it is registered to Lancashire Holdings, not a company I’m familiar with. Does that help? I see from the booking that it was one my father dealt with. Is there a problem with it?”
“A problem? Do you have any idea what happened out there?” Harry said angrily. “Two people have been murdered in the most horrific way. They must have screamed, begged for their lives. Didn’t your staff hear anything?”
“There’s not many of us here during the weekend, just Saturday morning perhaps. We tend to confine what we do to weekdays, Mr Lennox. That way we get less hassle from the neighbours. The wall you see at the back is all that separates us from the Baxendale estate, and they complain like hell about the noise.”
“Have Lancashire Holdings parked their containers here before?”
“Not that I can see from the records. They’ll be a relatively small enterprise. The firms who use our overnight parking facility tend to be privately owned — one lorry, one container types. As for Lancashire Holdings, I’ve no idea, I’m afraid.”
“Can we speak to your father, see if he recalls anything about the booking?” Harry asked.
“He’s not well so I left him at home. My dad has memory problems, I’m afraid. He might recall something useful, then again, he may have no idea what you’re talking about. What I can tell you is that the booking was made over the phone and paid for by a debit card in the name of Lancashire Holdings.”
Harry handed him a card. “If your dad remembers anything, could you write it down for us? And anyone else contacts you from Lancashire Holdings, ring us at once.”
“Can we reopen now?”
“Once the forensic team have finished. Do you have many employees, Mr Shaw?”
“Me or my dad in the office, and half a dozen drivers. They haven’t been here since Thursday. All s
ix are on the continent, due back tomorrow.”
“Chose their moment well,” Jess said once they were outside.
“Did their research more like,” Harry replied. “Back to the station, and let’s get on with some research of our own. We need to know a lot more about Lancashire Holdings, where their office is will do for starters.”
“Interesting that the lorry and container came from Glasgow. It goes with finding bits of Callum McBain on Nick Sutton’s hand, doesn’t it?”
Harry winced, whether at the image in his head or the sound of that name he wasn’t sure. Maybe both. “I doubt the Glasgow angle will come to much.”
“We don’t know that. It certainly merits investigating.”
* * *
With both detectives on the job, it didn’t take long to find out something about Lancashire Holdings. Jess discovered that the business had only been operational for three months, too soon to file any returns. The company’s registered office was in Preston. Scanning the record, she saw there was only one director listed.
“Harry,” she called. “Lancashire Holdings. I have a director’s name.”
Harry held his breath, believing he already knew. It had to be him. Who else could it be? He waited for Jess to pronounce the name that haunted his nightmares, it twisted his guts just to think about it. He clenched his fists under the desk and braced himself.
“Guess what,” she called. “Their one and only director is none other than our own Ryan Cassidy.”
Harry breathed out. Who would have believed it? Instantly, his mood lightened. But did Ryan have the ability to set something like this up? He couldn’t see it somehow. Harry smiled to himself. Anyway, he could stop worrying and get his head back in gear, press on with the job.
He tapped a pen on the desk, in thinking mode. “Let’s look at what we’ve got, Jessie. Two bodies, done to death in a horrific way. Lethal drugs sold on the Baxendale and skirmishes among the gangs.”
“Don’t forget the takeovers, possibly by Ryan Cassidy — Sutton’s factory and those rented properties,” Jess said. “We’ll have to bring him in.”
THE GUILTY MAN an absolutely gripping crime mystery with a massive twist (Detectives Lennox & Wilde Thrillers Book 1) Page 9