“I know this isn’t down to you or your Ryan, Martha. You’ve been used. But I’ll need your help to find the real killers. Are you sure he didn’t give you a name?”
“No. I picked up the phone and he’d just say, ‘Lancashire Holdings here.’”
“Is there anything you recall about his voice? Did you get the impression he was young or old?”
“Not from round here. Foreign like I said, but trying to hide it, and young, I guessed. Here,” she shoved her mobile at him. “I’ve got the number logged as LH, you can copy it. But I doubt it’ll do you much good, the call comes from a different number each time.”
“The next time they get in touch, ring me,” Harry said. “If they drop off a vehicle, don’t let the driver leave until I get here.”
“This is bad, isn’t it? I’ve messed up and now we’re all in danger.”
“One step at a time. The main thing is to get the bastards, Martha.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Harry got into the car and slumped in his seat.
“That took you long enough. How’d you get on?” Jess asked.
“I think I’ve upset her.”
“Martha Cassidy? You’re not serious.”
Harry heaved a sigh. “She’s been conned into signing a contract with Lancashire Holdings. They gave her money up front, promised a monthly retainer and loads of work. Consequently, she believed they were offering her a good deal, and she sanctioned the use of Ryan’s name as director. She’s never met anyone from the firm. All the discussion was done by phone or letter.”
“Has she given you any useful information about them?” Jess asked.
“Only that Lancashire Holdings are a haulage firm. The man who rang her was foreign she thinks. If he makes contact again or brings in a truck for repair, she’s going to contact us.”
“And that’s it? But she’s colluding with a gang of murderers, Harry. We should bring her in, question her further,” Jess said.
“She knows nothing more that will help us. She told me the truth, I’m convinced of it. Martha and her boys have been used, end of.”
“What now?”
Jess had an edge to her voice, she was frustrated, fed up of getting nowhere.
“How about we go for that drink with Sandy?” Harry said.
That cheered her up. “You’re actually allowing me to meet someone from your past? Wow. I’m honoured.”
“Just keep it general now, don’t go getting too nosy,” he said. “I’ll give him a ring and we’ll meet him in the Crown.”
“Fine with me. Can’t wait.”
* * *
When they entered the pub, Sandy was already there, standing by the bar. Harry headed his way while Jess went off to the toilet. No doubt he’d be warning Sandy not to tell her too much, but Jess was determined not to be sidetracked. There was a Scottish angle to this case that hadn’t been explored and Sandy could hold the key.
It’d been a difficult day. Left up to her, she’d have brought the Cassidys in and questioned the lot of them until they got something useful. Not Harry. He’d gone about things in his own way as usual. This was something he did a lot of, and Jess didn’t always approve. She was afraid that one of these days he’d flout the rules once too often and drag her down with him.
She was about to return to the bar when she heard her name called. It was Sandy, he was standing at the open back door having a cigarette. She gave him a big smile and went to join him.
“Where’s Harry?” she asked.
“Talking to that blonde barmaid,” he grinned. “Don’t worry about him, he won’t notice we’re gone.”
“Time for introductions then. I’ve the dubious honour of being his sergeant, Jess Wilde,” she said. “You, I’m told, are an old friend of Harry’s.”
“I am, I’ve known the lad since he was an infant. Harry speaks highly of you. How’s the case going?” Sandy asked.
“It’s a bitch and no mistake,” Jess admitted.
Sandy grinned. “Any good, is he?”
Jess thought this was an odd thing to ask. “Harry is a good detective, but we’ve got a tricky case on our hands and we’re not getting the breaks,” Jess said. “What I’m waiting for is Harry to have a flash of inspiration.”
“And if that doesn’t happen, you make your own breaks, don’t you?” Sandy nodded. “Believe me, the answers are there, you just have to find them.”
Jess guessed he’d told his friend to keep his mouth shut. But she intended to try anyway, this was perhaps the only opportunity she’d get to talk to Sandy properly. “Actually, there is something you might help us with. We have a link to a Scottish villain but he’s reluctant to run with it.” She lowered her voice. “The weapon used to cut a victim’s hand off had traces of flesh on it belonging to someone called Callum McBain. He’s from up your way. D’you know anything about him?”
“I’ve heard a rumour that he’s dead, not that a body has been found. I did know the man years ago. He was into all sorts of skulduggery. I heard he was mixed up with a gang of drug dealers.” Sandy gave Jess a quizzical look. “Could that be an angle to pursue?”
“Possibly. The thing is, when McBain’s name was mentioned the other day, Harry threw up. It was obviously a terrible shock to him. I’m afraid it’ll do Harry’s head in if McBain’s enemies are somehow involved. We’ve got fatal overdoses, murder, and a haulage company whose owners are extremely secretive. The only individual in the frame currently seems to be European not Scottish. So, I don’t understand how McBain got into the mix. But it does appear that whoever is responsible for the murders we’re investigating also killed him.”
“Look, hen, I’m having trouble hearing you above the din from the bar in there. Let’s move into the garden, sit on that bench.
“I’d better check on Harry, if he finds us discussing him he won’t be happy.”
Jess walked back along the corridor and took a quick peek towards the bar. Harry had given up on the barmaid and was now chatting intently to an attractive dark-haired woman. Jess left him to it and went back to join Sandy outside.
“If I was you I’d forget McBain and concentrate instead on who might want him dead,” Sandy said firmly. “The man was bad to the core and had a gang of thugs working for him, but his arch rival was even worse, a ruthless killer. It’s possible he is at the bottom of what’s happening on your patch now.”
“But why come here? We’re just an unimportant town with a very small market for drugs or anything else.”
“The killer I’m talking about has old scores to settle with Harry,” he said.
“How involved was Harry with this gang back in Glasgow?”
Sandy seemed to struggle with this. “Perhaps it’s better that he discusses that with you himself.”
“He won’t,” she said bluntly. “Harry likes to pretend that his past didn’t happen. But clearly it did. I’ve seen his hands. He was in an accident, a bad one, and he’s got the scars to prove it. He won’t even tell me about that. What happened?”
“You should ask him. I don’t want to talk about Harry behind his back. If he hasn’t discussed it with you, he’ll have his reasons.” Sandy took a last draw on the cigarette and threw it to the floor. “It’s up to Harry to tell you about his past. All I can say is the lad has issues. My advice is don’t pressure him.”
“Trouble is, I think Harry’s past is bound up with our current case, and him not talking to me isn’t helping us solve it.”
“What I will say is that McBain got in the way of the vicious bastard I mentioned and that’s why he’ll have been killed. It’s that man that haunts Harry, not McBain. But our lad in there,” he nodded towards the bar, “is wasting his time. Rumour has it the man I’m on about is in hiding, but I have no evidence of that. What I do know is that he hasn’t been seen in months.”
“Are you talking about Mungo Salton?” Jess asked.
Sandy looked surprised that Jess had heard of him. “Yes, but for god’s s
ake don’t mention that name to Harry.”
Chapter Thirty-three
Day Seven
The following day, Harry woke to the sound of rain battering down on the van roof. Drips were coming through and splashing the clothes he’d dropped on the floor the previous night. Jess was right, he had to get somewhere else to live and quick.
And he’d drunk too much — again. Chatting up the dark-haired woman had cost him a fortune and got him nowhere. He couldn’t even remember her name. Some huge bear of a man had turned up to collect her at closing time. As for Sandy, he’d spent his time getting to know Jess. Harry hoped he’d remembered his promise to lay off all talk of Glasgow.
Harry sat on the edge of the bed, his feet on the damp floor, and looked at the mess around him. This wasn’t how he should be living. He earned a good wage, he’d had savings when he’d first come to Ryebridge, so what had gone wrong? His past, that’s what, and the bloody memories that filled his head. Faces from his time in Glasgow swam through his dreams, most notably those of Salton and his own brother.
He was sinking again. At this rate he’d be back on the pills, and Harry didn’t want that. He needed to get a grip, but even more important, he needed to sort this case.
A loud bang on the door made him jump. Clad only in his dressing gown, he went to see who it was.
It was a tall dark-haired woman. He squinted at her. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought she was the one from the pub last night.
She smiled at him, looking him up and down. “Good morning, Mr Lennox. May I come in? Your weather is dreadful this morning and it is making me very wet.”
A foreign accent. Why hadn’t he noticed that in the bar? Too bloody drunk that’s why. God, what was her name? And what had he said to her to bring her to his door at this time in the morning? It must have been an invite to breakfast.
“I have food, and coffee.” She smiled again, entering the camper van and kicking the door closed with her high heel. She looked around at the cramped, untidy space and frowned. “You live like a pig.”
“Sorry, I’d offer you a seat, but as you say . . .”
“You are a bad man. You live in a rubbish dump. But no matter, we will cope.”
He watched her put the food on top of his one and only set of drawers. “I’m sorry. I know we spent some time chatting last night, but I can’t remember much about it,” he said.
“That is obvious. You do not even recall my name, do you? Which is a shame because soon we will become close.”
Oh. Right. That cheered him up. She was certainly a looker and he must have made a good impression for her to bring him breakfast. She obviously fancied him. He gave her one of his cheeky grins. Things were looking up.
But seeing his expression, she tutted and shook her head. “You misunderstand, Mr Lennox. Charming as you are, I am talking business, nothing else.”
Business? What was she on about? “Is this something we discussed last night? Because if so, I don’t recall a thing.”
She handed him a carton of coffee and a slip of paper. “I can see that. But no matter, it is something we will talk about now, over breakfast. Keep the paper safe, it has my mobile number on it.”
Harry shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m in no position to go into business with anyone. For a start, I don’t have any capital and I already have a good job.”
“Not that good, obviously. Look at where you live. I know about the day job, and your lack of funds. I am here to put that right,” she said. “Your job and your interesting past are what make you such a good proposition.”
‘Interesting past?’ What did she mean? What did she know? The woman sat on a stool, sipping her coffee and staring at him coolly. She gave nothing away.
“I don’t understand. If you know anything about me, you’ll know I won’t give up the day job, as you called it, for anyone.”
“I’m not asking you to give it up,” she said.
“Who are you?”
“Your new friend.” She smiled. “And soon I will be your new employer.”
Harry was about to put her straight when his mobile rang, breaking into the odd atmosphere. It was a frantic Martha Cassidy.
“You have to come,” she said urgently. “We’ve got some maniac locked in our back room.”
“What’s happened?”
“It arrived this morning, a broken axle I reckon, although we’ve not had a proper look yet.”
“What’re you talking about, Martha?” Harry asked, keeping a wary eye on the woman.
“A bloody truck from them people, Lancashire Holdings. You said to ring if they turned up. Well they have, and my Caleb’s scared witless. The driver, some foreign bloke, pulled a gun on him. My Caleb literally dodged a bullet and then managed to lamp him one. We’ve got him locked up in the back room. He’s making a helluva noise. We took the gun and his mobile off him but he’s trying to kick the door down and he’s making threats. I’m not sure how long we can hold him.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll alert backup and be with you soon. Do the best you can, but don’t put yourselves in danger.”
Harry turned to his visitor. “My job calls, I’m afraid. Fascinating as it is to talk to you, we’ll have to leave the rest till later.”
“Very well. I’ll be in touch.”
“Before you go, what’s your name?”
“Emira,” she said. “I trust you won’t forget it this time.”
And then she was gone, leaving Harry with yet another puzzle. He wished he could recall last night’s conversation but it was gone, evaporated like the fumes off alcohol.
Chapter Thirty-four
Harry arrived at the Cassidys just minutes after armed-response. Martha looked relieved to see him. She pointed to a metal door at the far end of the workshop. “He’s in there. He was carrying a gun. That and his mobile are now in the drawer over there.”
Harry put the mobile in an evidence bag and indicated to one of the armed officers. “Take it away,” he said.
“We haven’t touched the lorry,” Martha said.
“I’ll have it searched,” Harry said. “You took a risk disarming him, you could have been shot.”
“That was down to Caleb. He packs quite a punch when riled. The man threatened me, and Caleb saw red.”
Harry joined Jess who had been hanging back near the main entrance.
“There’s only the cab and the flatbed,” she said. “If it was carrying a container, it’s gone.”
Harry had a shrewd idea where it would be parked. He pointed to the metal door. “Get him out,” he told the officers. “Get him packed off to the station and we’ll get round to Shaw’s Haulage, see if the container is there. If not, we’ll try Andy’s old factory.”
“Wonder what was in it,” Jess said.
“And where it came from,” Harry added.
Minutes later, forensics arrived from the Reid. “If you find any paperwork, bag it up,” Harry said. He turned back to Jess. “A manifest would be useful, but I doubt we’ll be that lucky.”
They all stood back as the armed officers dragged a young man, kicking and screaming, from the locked room. He swore at them in some unintelligible language.
Harry turned to Jess. “Not from round here, then. Want to hazard a guess?”
“That’s Urdu, and from the look of him, I’d say he was from Pakistan,” she said.
Harry spoke to the armed-response team’s commander. “We’ll need backup for the next bit too. I suspect that lorry was carrying a container. We need to find it and deal with the contents.”
“Which are?” the commander said.
“Afraid I’ve no idea. This lot and what they’re up to are new to me.”
* * *
“There was me thinking it would be a quiet morning, having a cosy chat with Lisa and getting the background on her life with Andy,” Jess said once they were in the car.
Harry grinned. “But just think how much more exciting it is dealing with an armed villain.
We’ll speak to her later — first things first. We need to find that container. I want to know what this lot are up to.”
“What just happened isn’t funny, Harry. Martha and her boys could have been hurt.”
“She wasn’t though, was she? Canny lass is Martha.”
“You take too many risks, Harry Lennox. Leaving Martha to deal with an incident like that—”
“I didn’t. I told her to ring me if a lorry turned up.”
“Well, turn up they did and were in a damn hurry from what she said.”
“We find that container and go from there,” Harry said.
“We could be stumbling into anything,” Jess said.
“Which is why I’ve got armed response on our tails,” Harry said. “What happened to you last night? I lost sight of you in the bar.”
“I bumped into an old friend,” she lied. “We did a bit of catching up.”
“How d’you get on with Sandy?”
“He’s okay, Sandy. I liked him.”
“Did the pair of you get a chance to chat?”
“Not really, what passed between us was just about the job and how busy he is these days,” she lied.
“Did you notice the woman I was with?” Harry said.
“Sophie?”
“No, a woman with long, dark hair. She was tall, had a foreign accent, though you wouldn’t have heard that.”
“Can’t say I did,” Jess said, “but the place was packed. Why d’you ask?”
Harry shrugged. “No reason.”
Their first stop was Shaw’s, the hauliers. When they arrived, they noticed a number of lorries and containers parked up. Harry and Jess went straight to the office and spoke to Roger Shaw.
THE GUILTY MAN an absolutely gripping crime mystery with a massive twist (Detectives Lennox & Wilde Thrillers Book 1) Page 12